


get your feet off the ground

by crunchy_rocc



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Better, Video Game Mechanics, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), adding more as i go lol, get got you tall white man /j, i just make tommy go through it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28712121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchy_rocc/pseuds/crunchy_rocc
Summary: He was sure he checked for poison ivy too, getting a rash from a plant was stupid. Last that he checked, there wasn’t any, and yet.Tommy grumbled under his breath, rubbing at his shoulder. It didn’t make sense, he checked everywhere, he even made sure there wasn't anything that could hurt him and here he was! It couldn’t be an allergic reaction to his shirt either-- he had been wearing the same one for weeks now. And suddenly, he’s got a rash.______Tommyinnit, the only biological son of Philza, starts to grow a few traits during his exile.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 178
Kudos: 1823
Collections: MCYT Fic Rec





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> catch me using fanfiction as a way to procrastinate studying on my spanish finals LMAO
> 
> wish me luck its definitely not gonna end well

During the first few days of his exile, Tommy took the time to look around in his little “vacation home.” Mostly to make sure that nothing was round to kill him in his first week-- excluding mobs that spawned-- but also to check out what wildlife was around. It would have been pussy shit for him to lose his last life to something mundane like starvation, poison or some bear attacking him. Thankfully, there weren't any plants that could kill him, or caves with bears ready to tear him limb to limb, and there were plenty enough animals to hunt if Tommy got low on food. 

He was sure he checked for poison ivy too, getting a rash from a  _ plant _ was stupid. Last that he checked, there wasn’t any, and yet.

Tommy grumbled under his breath, rubbing at his shoulder. It didn’t make sense, he checked  _ everywhere _ , he even made sure there wasn't anything that could hurt him and here he was! It couldn’t be an allergic reaction to his shirt either-- he had been wearing the same one for  _ weeks _ now. And suddenly, he’s got a rash.

The blond would have remembered falling into a pile of poison ivy and he didn’t. Just-- all of a sudden, his back  _ burns _ and he wants to itch it but that only makes it worse.  _ And it was where he couldn’t reach it! _

He kicked the sand, watching it be sprayed into the air before the wind blew it away. He didn’t have anything to soothe it, he didn’t have anything to help it, and no one had come by to visit him in two days.  _ Dream _ hadn’t come to visit him in two days, and he was sure that he could help him. The masked man probably knew some sort of balm that would stop the need to scratch.

But he wasn’t, and no one was going to come to help him. He was alone on this stupid, shitty island with no one in sight. No sign of a green bastard with a horrid smile drawn on his mask, no sign of green eyes and small horns poking out of brown hair, no sign of a tusked grin or a shining golden crown, nor shadowed eyes and antlers and wings that stretched to the sky. 

Even Ghostbur left him alone in his exile, almost four days gone by with no sign of the shell that once was his brother.

Alone. He was all by himself.

He snarled at everything and nothing, kicking at the sand again. Tommy shook his head, clearing himself of any thoughts about other people. He didn’t feel lonely or  _ miss  _ them, he just wanted the feeling on his back to be gone.

The moment he had something to fix it was the moment he didn’t need anyone else afterwards.

But still, he couldn’t help the thoughts of other people coming by stop. It was bad enough that he had to do everything virtually by himself-- including cheering himself up or not being bored. No one ever visited him for anything other than pity, and then they’d be off again and he’d never see his friends again except for Dream.

Dream, the man who put him through hell and back, the man that put him in his exile, and he was the only person to stay and come back for  _ Tommy. _

The blond barked out a laugh, raking his free hand through his hair. The irony of it all! You’d think more people would visit him, especially the L’manbergians. After everything he’s done for the country he helped build, the land he fought for and helped raise. You’d think he’d get more credit, and yet once again Tommy is exiled and thrown away.

Tommy grit his teeth, grinding them just for the noise of them scraping together. Just for any other noise than the constant crashing of waves, any noise at all. 

Everything about this exile bothered him. It was fine for a short while, and he wasn’t this bored. Cutting down trees and building things, making little shacks, exploring the surrounding island without Dream catching him and doing some “punishment” for it. He was supposed to be Tommy’s friend, not blowing up his stuff! 

A sharp pain in his shoulder made him pause. Tommy blinked, pulling his gaze from the ocean to where his hand rested. He had dug his fingers into it, and there were little indents where his fingernails were. He didn’t even notice.

The teen scoffed, shaking it out. Great, leave it to him to hurt himself or some shit. Can’t control his emotions, a liability. 

Sitting down heavily in the sand and pulling his knees to his chest, Tommy looked out the shore. Really, he hoped that  _ someone _ came by, and soon. The sooner he could get something for this rash, the better.

“Why am I getting so worked up about this,” he hissed to himself. The waves almost drowned the words out. 

He didn’t even care not too long ago. Yes, he wanted to see people other than Dream again but he’d almost given up on it. He’d felt the despair of “Oh! Maybe once again I’m left in the bust by everyone I cared about!” Why, out of all the times, did he decide that now would be the best time to get worked up over nothing?

Maybe it was because of whatever he landed in. Maybe he was hallucinating again-- this time with feelings. Could you even hallucinate feelings?

A shout brought him out of his thoughts, and Tommy instantly perked up at the voice. A brown boat with a green blob was on the horizon. 

“Finally,” he muttered, scrambling up from where he sat on the beach. He rolled up his torn khakis, pulling off his socks all while the older man got closer. 

“Tommy,” the figure called, and if he squinted hard enough he could make out the crude drawn-on smile adorning his mask, “did you miss me?”

Tommy’s nose scrunched up in distaste, but he didn’t say no. Instead, he wadded slightly into the water, toes digging into the wet sand. Maybe this would have been a better picture if Tubbo was there, or his makeshift family or friends or anyone other than Dream. 

And yet.

His lip curled into what could be considered a snarl. “I didn’t,” then, as if an afterthought and tacked on, “bitch.”

There was something about Dream that Tommy hated, and it was just the way he  _ oozed _ amusement whenever he talked. Like he was just some kid who didn’t know any better, it made him want to grit his teeth and yell at him. It made something inside of him stiffen and just  _ lunge, _ like someone giving him a smirk that told him they thought he was less then them.

It was like choking on hatred.

But Dream was the only person who ever visited him, and he still needed that balm. He couldn’t hate his friend, even if being near him made his skin crawl anymore than it already did.

The masked man laughed, light and airy like he didn’t have a care in the world. Tommy, once again, thought about going for his throat, but what type of friend attacked those who cared about them? He brushed it off, forcing himself to relax and calm down instead of jumping into action.

That’s what got him here in the first place, right?

“I’m only here for a little bit, Tommy. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.” The mask was pulled to the side, and while the teen couldn’t really make out anything other than his mouth, the smile was probably all he needed to see. Dream leaned down, tilting his head and gesturing over his shoulder. “You didn’t get anything while I was gone, did you? You know I don’t like armour, it’s a bit upsetting if I can’t protect you correctly.”

Tommy’s shoulders dropped, and so did his gaze. Of course, that was the first course of action. It was always something before him, huh?

“Tommy,” the green clad man’s low voice cut through like a vice, sharply cutting his thoughts off, “You don’t have any armour, do you?”

“I don’t, dickhead,” Tommy snapped, showing a bit more teeth than usual. What was _ with _ him today-?

Dream clicked his tongue, laying a hand on his shoulder with a slight frown. Fear ran down his spine like a chill, settling in his stomach. Was he being too much--? He wasn’t going to leave, right? Dream just got here, he shouldn’t have snapped like that to his friend, to the only person who cared enough to visit him-!

“Are you feeling alright there, buddy?” His hand pulled away for a moment, fingerless glove gently being pulled off before resting backside on his forehead. All the air he didn’t know he was holding left in one quick  _ whoosh, _ and Tommy might have slumped forward in relief had it not been for Dream still standing there. “You’re acting a little… off today.”

He swiped the hand away, ducking under and heading towards Trent. If he walked too stiffly, Dream didn’t comment on it. “It’s nothing, really. Just tired. And a bit lonely. I’m all by myself out here, you know. You’re the only person who visits me and I’m tired of your ugly face.”

Dream barked out a laugh at that. The younger spun on his heel, glowering at the blond. How dare he laugh at Tommy. 

“It’s true! You’re so fuckin’ boring! Would it kill you to show your face for at least one time? We’re friends, for Prime’s sake! Oh, by the way, do you have anything for poison ivy? Huh-  _ Stop laughing at me!” _

[]

Dream had set off a few hours later, before the sun had set yet. Something about needing to check up on L’manberg, and to see if anyone had something for his rash.

The green clad man had paused, right before he departed, and turned to Tommy.

He wouldn’t be able to come by for a little while, he had said. There were some problems he had to sort out. Problems he couldn’t let get too bad, in case they messed with the SMP or L’manberg. It was for everyone’s sake.

Tommy had watched him row off into the distance. 

…

Maybe he could turn in early for the night.

[]

Pain. Burning, searing pain. It stretched across his back, his shoulder blades, under his skin. It  _ hurt, _ it hurt so badly and he just wanted it to stop.

It was cold too, but it did nothing to soothe the pulsing-- the  _ thing _ in him. He didn’t know what it was, it just hurt and he wanted it gone. All the temperature did was bring attention to the white-hot pain.

It felt like Dream didn’t stop him, all that time ago, and now he was facing up to the nether as his back burnt away into a crisp. He was too cold and too hot, an icy chill racking through his body and claiming his fingers and toes and nose as he burned and burned and burned and--

That’s how Tommy woke up, shaking in his tent from the overwhelming  _ everything _ . 

Waking up wasn’t pleasant, it wasn’t like he had a good night's sleep, in fact it felt like he hadn’t slept a wink in  _ days.  _ His head was stuffed to the brim with wool and lead that weighed him down, the wool went down into his throat and dried it all up. It was like he never had a drink in weeks, and the pounding headache that started as a buzz quickly intensified to a point he just couldn’t bear.

He was dying, he was sure of it, clammy and hidden away to somewhere. And no one came.

That’s when everything else hit him at once.

It was too much. It was all too much, the wind howling and whistling past and through the sides of his tent like they were arrows raining down on him, the crashing of the sea outside like a symphony of explosions that would never truly be finished, the cold that surrounded him and his cotton-stuffed head like falling in a river. Cloth rubbed against his skin, raw and wrong and  _ too much. _ It felt like a uniform and never ending violence, it felt like a brown trenchcoat and the same four words repeating forever in his head. It smelt like rain before a storm and wood and stone like a wall and dirt like being pushed off of it and landing in the grass. Salty, like sweat in a battle or the sea while he was forced to row himself off and away from his home.

There was a quiet, low noise, almost covered up by all that was hammering against his skull. It made his throat vibrate, and he realized it was coming from himself.

And the pain, the pain that cut through his very being.

It all overwhelmed him, stealing his breath away. All Tommy could do was let out something crossed between a choked off sob and a whine. It was all too much and he was so, so cold and hurt. Where was everyone? Where was anyone?

Tommy whimpered, screwing his eyes shut and attempting to hole away in the soft thing that his head laid on. That stopped nothing from invading his senses.

His whole body ached, joints stiff and sore. What was happening to him? There was the crescendo of crashing waves again, flooding his ears, his entire being, and he cried out, hands raising to cover his ears. It was too loud

It wasn’t safe, the wool walls weren’t safe and the thing covering him was strangling him. Where was he again? He felt horrible, he felt confused and he was hurt somewhere. He didn’t know where. What was on him? Why was it trying to kill him?

Tommy thrashed in whatever was holding him down. Whatever he was laying on scraped against his aching back, white-hot pain racing up and through his spine. It made him jolt, crying out and then harder when he fell on his shoulder on the floor. At least he was free from the thing, but now his head spun even worse and he felt like his fingers were becoming static. 

He let out yet another sob, curling up on the rough and cold ground. Why wasn’t anyone there to help? Where was he? He wanted Tubbo, he wanted his friend, he was always there to help him when he was hurt-- where was he now? Where was Philza? He used to comfort him all the time and Tommy was in pain and it was so, so cold.

He couldn’t stop here now, he couldn’t lay here yet. He had to get up, he wasn’t safe and something or someone bad would come and hurt him. Tommy whimpered, clutching at sweat soaked blond hair and  _ tugging. _ He wanted it to stop, he wanted all the noise and smells to stop and all the pain to go away.

Tommy had to get out. He just had to, there was no other way out and he’d die if he stayed out here. He didn’t want to die, he couldn’t, not yet. 

Arms trembling, he managed to push himself up. The cot-- his, something in the back of his head supplied-- was placed right next to him, and he could make it up. He just had to push himself a little more, a little harder and then he’d be fine. He had to get out of all this wool and cloth and unsafe little house.

The teen barely made it up, slowly and unsteadily. Standing was a feat, but moving was the problem. Where does he go? Where could he even go? 

Tommy pried his eyes open, blinking at the zipped up flap in front of him. With shaking hands, he pried it open.

He dragged himself out of his… The trnet. He was out, finally, but immediately flinched back in the face of so much light. It burned at his eyes and he hissed in pain, almost tripping over himself but luckily grabbing the pole keeping the tent up. 

The quick movement made another round of stabbing pain make itself known, choking him out of his breath. The muscles in his back spasmed, and Tommy lurched for the pole and bit down.

Thankfully that was enough to muffle his scream.

Shivering from the biting cold and from the agony that plagued him, Tommy let go, stumbling forward into the night. There was…

There.

Tommy swiveled where he stood, tilting dangerously before righting himself. Logsedshire wasn’t too far away, Wilbur’s cabin wasn’t too far away.

The teen tripped over his feet multiple times, but he got there. The cabin’s birch and light blue were soft on his eyes, better than the biting colors outside. It hurt him out there, now he could be more safe. He would be safer in the cabin, where it smelt like Wilbur and was warm and felt like a piece of home. 

As he stood in front of the cabin, he felt light drops of water hit his skin. He made it, and didn’t faint from the overwhelming feeling on his way over.

He breathed out, a soft noise startling him slightly. It had come from him again. How was he making those noises?

Tommy shook his head, quickly regretting it after a dizzy spell washed over him, and he reached for the handle. He twisted it.

It didn’t open. 

  
The door-- it was locked? Tommy blinked down, hard at the handle. There where two- no one, there was only one. What was going on with him--?

He whined, twisting the handle some more. Why wouldn’t it open? When did it start to rain harder?   
  


Fumbling it for… it was a little bit of time, he was sure, but the pounding headache kept him from actually keeping time, and the feeling of his shirt getting wet and rubbing against him made him feel vaguely nauseous, and  _ prime did everything hurt-- _

Tommy all but tumbled through the doorway, tears springing in his eyes. He had to get it off, he had to get the shirt off, the rash or thing or  _ whatever _ was under his skin was uncomfortable and strange and he had no clue what to  _ do _ he just wanted the thing off--

He tried, he tried to reach over his head and pull the shirt over and off but stretching-- he let out a cry, whatever was underneath his skin pushed against it. The thought of what it was made him sick to his stomach. 

He wasn’t sure what it was. He didn’t know if he wanted to know.

Leaning heavily against the wall, he set himself on the lookout for--

There!

Tommy reached over, a pile of sheets and clothes and pillows and wool sitting innocently on the floor. Perfect. He needed that.

He dragged it over to a spot in the middle of the floor, setting the pile down. His legs shook with effort and he felt like he was about to kneel over at any moment. But he had to-- he didn’t know what he had to do. The pain was unbearable but he just--

Falling to his knees, Tommy began to do… something. He didn’t know why but there was just something in his mind telling him to put the pile into a certain position and he couldn’t stop himself. 

It felt like it’d be safer, like it’d be a small bed that was warm and would be waiting for him.

Tommy crawled into the pile, dragging something up and over his head to block out everything around him. He curled into one of its sides, body shaking uncontrollably and sobs ripping from his throat. It  _ hurt, _ he just wanted his family or someone here with him.

He didn’t know how long he spent under it, wasting away. He didn’t understand what was going on.

Pain, white hot and sharp, tore through his back and out of his shoulder blades and he  _ screamed, _ raw and terrified and feeling like he was about to pass out or throw up or just fall over and die. His voice cracked near the end, giving up on him as the teen delved into sobs.

He was  _ bleeding, _ he felt it running down his back and soaking up in the cover on top of him. He cried, twisting a hand into the nearest pillow.

It felt like forever, but the pain had dulled from tearing his body open to a low pulse, sore and aching and thrumming somewhere out of his skin.

Whatever it was, hiding under his skin, it was out now.

Spent from all the energy it took, exhausted and face tracked with tears, Tommy let his eyes slip shut.

With a shaky exhale, he lets the ache wash off him, slumping forward bonelessly.

Finally.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time he woke, his thoughts were more organized and clearer. He could finally think, no haze of exhaustion or the muffling of pain clouding his judgement. Finally, Tommy was more aware of his surroundings and where he was. Specifically the two soft limbs pressed against his back.
> 
> Tommy's thoughts were a bit fuzzy around the edges, something in the back of his mind kept saying "safe" over and over again, warmth around him and flooding his senses. He would have stayed there, let himself sleep more, if it weren't for the memory of being in agony, and blurry half-thoughts about blood and his brother jolting him awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not flunk my spanish finals ! thank god for that

When Tommy comes back too, he no longer feels stabbing pain in his back, and he’s no longer shaking from whatever tore itself out from under his skin.

He’s absolutely drained, however.

His eyelids are heavy, crusted slightly. He'd be a little grossed out if it was anything else, but he's just tired. The weight of a blanket soothes him, it's warm and comforting and feels like a hug. He likes the weight, just a little. It’s nice in his little pile.

There is a sore ache on his back, however.

But it feels almost like he never got to sleep, and he feels himself being pulled back under. He nuzzles his face into the soft wool-filled fabric in his face and sighs, drifting off again.

That’s when the breeze hits him and he lets out a small, annoyed noise from the back of his throat. Right when he’s falling back asleep.

Tommy had a tuft of hair sticking out from under the covers. He could feel a cool, gentle wind passing through it. It makes him shiver, and he curls up against the wind and out of sight.

The wind is annoying and bothersome. He doesn’t like it. He’d call it a bitch if it was a person, not just air.

His lips curl up slightly. Wind bitch. Witch.

  
Tommy doesn’t like witches, they suck and they’re annoying and just horrible-

There’s a small click, like a door being shut as quietly as it could. Which doesn’t make sense, he’s in trnet, right? 

No. That was wrong, he came into the cabin a little bit ago. Or a while ago?

“Hello?” He was pulled back into the present by a small voice. Tommy made no move to get up or open his mouth, if whoever wanted to come and talk to him was here they could wait a bit. 

Or like, several hours.

Tommy didn’t even hear footsteps coming his way. One moment he’s starting to fall back asleep, and then cold air hits him again.

The cover was gently pried away from him. Tommy whined, twisting in the pile in an attempt to keep the warmth from leaving fully. Sounding above him was a quiet sigh. Two pairs of icy hands rested on his shoulder and back. The sudden touch made him jolt, curling up quickly and away from whoever was touching him. 

“Go ‘way,” his voice was muffled from laying face down on a pillow and swatting at the offending hands. “‘M tryna sleep. Few more minutes.”

A gentle laugh filled the air. It echoed slightly.

Annoyance flashed in his mind, how dare someone barge in and wake him up? Just to make fun of him? But it left him just as fast as it came, he didn’t want to spend precious time dealing with whoever was bothering him when he could be fast asleep.

Who was this, anyway?

Their laugh sounded a lot like his bell, outside of the cabin. When did he ring it last? He didn’t have time earlier, he was too exhausted and achy to. 

Maybe Prime wanted him to ring it?

Tommy wondered if his Prime Bell became sentient, just to get him to ring it.

“Tommy,” his bell called softly, “the floor doesn’t look too comfortable, hm? I think you’d like it better if we moved you somewhere else.”

One of the hands came back, carding through his damp hair. Tommy whined, leaning into the touch.

It was a nice distraction to the dull ache pounding on his shoulder blades.

He pried his eyes open, squinting up at the silhouette that crowded his vision. It swam and blurred for a few seconds before it settled into place.

He knew that face.

“W’bur?”

The man--his brother-- smiled sadly and cupped his cheek. Tommy blinked owlishly up at him, tilting his head into the other’s hand. He doesn’t understand why he looks so sad, or why there’s tear tracks of blue running down his face.

Wilbur really had to clean that up sometime.

He’s… gray. Something in his gut twists, but Tommy doesn’t know why. It’s almost like anger, or sadness, or something along the lines of that. He’s too out of it to understand why Wilbur is gray and yellow, so instead he says this;

“Why’re you a bell?”

It obviously catches his brother off guard, he jolts in surprise and stares at Tommy. He’s starting to think that he said something wrong when he suddenly starts laughing.

He blinks up, slowly. Then his face twists up, and he lifts a heavy arm to swat at his brother. It doesn’t work though, it pulls at something on his back and it stings. 

Tommy can’t hold back the whimper and that’s what catches Wilbur’s attention.

The man rested his hands on both sides of his face, swiping his thumb under Tommy’s eyes. Tommy distantly registered a cool forehead being pressed against his. Like when they were younger, and Tommy had a bad dream. The blond’s eyes flutter, slipping shut like he could fall asleep right then and there, and leave behind the sore feeling and exhaustion that threatened to pull him under all over again.

Being in Wilbur’s, his brother's arms, feeling like he could hide away in them and never come out. Like he could protect him and he’d always be safe.

  
It was comforting.

This was nice.

Something painful pulsed in his chest, yearning and lonely. He missed Wilbur, but he couldn’t exactly remember why, exhaustion and the still-lingering pain clouding his thoughts.

He knew that he missed seeing his brother oh so much, however.

“Oh, Tommy,” the br- greynette?- Wilbur breathed, a few chuckles escaping him and pulling Tommy out of his thoughts. He looks a bit sad, like when they were younger and they had to let a bird they nursed back to health go. He missed that bird, and the thought of it made his lips twitch up. What was its name again? "I missed you too. Let's clean you up a little, yeah? Get you more comfortable, then you can go back to sleep."

Tommy’s brow furrowed. Did he say that out loud? He didn’t mean to do that.

Cold hands made a return, resting on his shoulders. Gently but firm, nudging him, pulling him up. 

“Leave me alone,” Tommy whined, attempting to swatt the hands aside. They didn’t budge, continuing to try and get him up. “I want to go back to sleep, Wilby. I’m  _ tired.” _

“I know, I know,” the taller soothes, but he still doesn’t let up. Tommy frowns at that, blinking his eyes open to glare at his older brother, but he wasn’t sure if it looked right with him still being bleary-eyed and tired. “You’re back is a little messed up, Tommy. You’ll feel better after, and then you can rest, alright?”

Tommy really didn’t want to move, he wanted to stay safe in his little pile he made for himself and sleep until he was better, but Wilbur was insistent and continued to prod him up. He grumbled something unintelligible, letting his brother help him be pulled up.

Sitting up made the extent of his exhaustion hit him like a minecraft, swaying where he was.

“Y’owe me somethin’ later,” he mumbled, almost tilting dangerously forward, but he was caught by the gentle and-- Prime, Wilbur had to get gloves or something, hands shouldn't be this-- cold hands yet again. 

“Of course, I’ll get you something, like… maybe I could get you a better shirt? Ooh, yes, I think if it was blue it’d look good. It’d match your eyes, yeah?” 

Tommy blinked slowly, head dropping to the side. Why would he need a new shirt? He’s already got a good enough one right now. But-- he wasn’t wearing it? 

“Where’s m’ shirt now…?” 

“You dropped it on the floor from a- earlier, maybe. I don’t know if it’d fit you now.” Wilbur gestured somewhere behind from where the two of them were sitting. Tommy attempted to crane his head to see, but once again he pulled at something on his back.

The blond let out a hiss, sharp pain stabbing at his shoulder blades. 

“Careful, be careful,” Wilbur muttered softly, cupping his face as gently as he could, like he was a small child all over again and he scraped his knee. Distantly, not that Tommy would ever say it out loud, he wished that it was back then, with no worries of political matters or an exhaustion that settled in his bones like it was there for years. Back when he could be a kid again, without whatever the hell was happening to him right now. “C’mon now, let’s get you to a chair.”

Tommy gripped onto the hand Wilbur had offered to him, easing himself up on weak legs. Thank Prime that Wilbur was there, even if he was freezing. Tommy might have fallen over if he wasn’t. 

Slowly but surely, Tommy was led to a wooden chair, in which he all but slumped against once he was sitting. Exhaustion settled in his bones and he couldn't shake it off, it left him with the feeling of bubbling frustration. He couldn't do anything about it, and he was helpless without Wilbur being there to care for him.

The blond rubbed at his eye, blinking away sleep once more. He just had to stay awake a little longer.

"I found it!" Tommy pursed his lips at Wilbur's cheer. The taller of the two wandered back into eyesight, a piece of cloth in one hand and a bowl of water in the other. "Alright, I'll be as gentle as I can, but there's some parts that might hurt a little. You'll be more comfortable once I'm done, how's that?"

Tommy nodded, resting his forehead on the chair. "... Get it over with, I wanna sleep for a year. Or two."

He didn't lift his head back up, so he didn't have a clue on whether or not Wilbur had nodded. He did hear the tell-tale sound of shuffling, edging closer to where he was sat.

Wilbur then pressed a cool, wet rag against his skin.

Tommy sucked in a breath, the damp cloth dragging painfully against his back, like he had an open wound. Did he have an open wound? He trembled in his seat, leaning forward and resting his forehead against the wooden chair as if it would stop his eyes from watering.

Wilbur paused, pulling the cloth away and Tommy couldn’t help the choked breath of relief that he let out. 

“I know, Toms. It hurts, doesn’t it? It’ll feel better when we get this all cleaned up.” Wilbur was gently rubbing circles into his shoulder. “It’s a bit gross and sticky, and we don’t want that, do we?”

He let out a puff of air, nodding slowly with his eyes closed. If Wilbur said it was alright, it must be. And he’d be able to sleep afterwards, that’s what he had said.

Wilbur started up again, washing off what was on his back as gently as he could so it wouldn’t hurt Tommy. The blond was glad for him being so careful this time, a pat on his shoulder each time he got to  _ that _ part of his back. 

Tommy didn't remember how or when he injured himself, but knowing him, it could be from anytime anywhere. Maybe he landed on a rock and forgot after last night. That might explain it.

But it didn’t hurt as much when he woke up?

The rag was pressed against  _ that _ part again, like an open wound Wilbur was trying to clean. It stung, and tears welled in his eyes.

Tommy let out a low whine, shifting away. “I don’t want it. I can drink a healing potion-”

“No, Tommy, it might heal wrong, your back is… it’s a little torn up. We need to clean it first, and instantly healing might make it worse.” Wilbur paused, tapping a slightly familiar rhythm into Tommy’s shoulder. There was apause, and honestly Tommy never was one for silence, it was deafening to him and seemed to stretch on forever-- “Regen, that would be better for you! I can make that, how’s that sound?”

“Is it gonna get infected?”

“Not if we clean it, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Tommy said, closing his eyes against the wood back of the chair. “Okay, you can continue.”

“Alright, I’m going in again, I’ll talk a bit so you can focus on something else, alright?”

Tommy nodded once again, and so Wilbur’s soft, raspy-- when did he start sounding raspy?-- voice picked up. Wilbur had his hand resting on his shoulder, grounding and safe despite the chill. 

He found himself drifting off to the sound of his voice, practically melting into the chair. He faintly registered the sound of something being put away, and then clinking of glass before something was pressed to his lips. He drank it without question, and warm almost instantly flooded his limbs. 

If he listened close enough, Tommy could make out someone saying something, but he was already too far gone. And with that, he fell back into his dreams.

[]

The next time he woke, his thoughts were more organized and clearer. He could finally think, no haze of exhaustion or the muffling of pain clouding his judgement. Finally, Tommy was more aware of his surroundings and where he was. Specifically the two soft limbs pressed against his back.

Tommy's thoughts were a bit fuzzy around the edges, something in the back of his mind kept saying "safe" over and over again, warmth around him and flooding his senses. He would have stayed there, let himself sleep more, if it weren't for the memory of being in agony, and blurry half-thoughts about blood and his brother jolting him awake.

There was a huge pile of cloth, scraps and wool covering and around him. Tommy thrashed under it all, trying to get his way out of the pile.

"What the fuck!"

“Oh, are you awake?”

Tommy squinted as the top cover was pulled off of his head. Low and behold, there stood his dead brother, giving him his stupid little smile that Ghostbur did.

“Why the fuck did you trap me in a god damn--” gestured to the pile around him, stiff and angry-- “ _ pillow fort?” _

Ghostbur laughed, light and airy and annoying. 

“I didn’t! You where there when I found you, you slept for like-- five hours after I came back and cleaned you up.” The spector settled next to the pile, holding a hand out. Tommy just slapped it away with a scowl.

“I don’t need your help, bitch,” he hissed. 

“Don’t be that way, you were all nice last night! You even said you  _ missed _ me, you missed your big ol’ brother, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember it, so it never happened,” Tommy snapped, kicking off the rest of whatever was trapping him in this… Hold up. “Why’s it look like that?”

Ghostbur tilted his head. “Like what?”

“If I made a pillow fort why’s it so fucking… shitty? It looks like a… it’s like…”

“A nest,” the spector supplied.

Tommy stiffened at that.

"I’m not some fucking animal or some shit, out of the way, Ghostbur," the blond growled, shoving his shoulder into the door and almost tripping over his own feet when it opened. He stumbled down the stairs, managing to get down without falling flat on his face.

Ghostbur trailed after him, shutting the door behind them with a soft click and letting out an even softer chuckle.

"You seem a bit grumpy today. Do you want some--"

"I don't want any blue, Wil-- Ghostbur! Fuck off!"

The man only grinned, cold, gray hands clasping together. "If you say so, little bird!"

Tommy blanks at that one. What the hell was his scatterbrained ghost of a brother even talking about? 

"Little bird," he parroted, nose scrunching up in confusion.

Ghostbur looks just as confused, head tilting to the side and eyes flicking over him. Was Tommy missing a joke? 

"Don't tell me you don't realize when you grew them," he seemed to settle on, straightening his head once more. 

"Grow what? You're not making any sense!"

"The wings, you're Phil's only biological son, me and Techno are just hybrids, we don't have them."

"I have fuckin'  _ what _ now?" Tommy spun around in an attempt to catch sight of them. "I thought I was just human! What the fuck! Where are they?"

"They're so small," Ghostbur breathed, and when he turned around the spector was closer than before. "Like little chick's!"

So he did have wings. He was a fucking bird now, wasn't he? 

"No," Tommy whined, pushing the ghost aside. "I don't want to have wings! Fuck, am I going to grow antlers like Phil? I don't want to look like a fuckin' deer, what the fuck!"

“Just look at your little wings,” Ghostbur cooed, reaching over despite Tommy’s protests. “You’re all fuzzy! Like a little baby bird, my little baby bird brother with his little baby bird wings. They’re so  _ adorable. _ ”

"They're not! They're bad and awful, gross even. Shitty. What does this mean? Am I going to have to fight a fucking moose? With antlers? Isn't that what they do?"

Ghostbur seemed to be ignoring him, instead reaching his grubby hands towards him. The blond scowled at that.

Tommy opened his mouth, fully preparing to curse his dead brother back to hell, abruptly snapped it shut as the ghost ran his hand down something on his back. He hadn’t had anyone other than Dream just touch him in a while, and this felt like when he was younger and had someone run their hands through his hair and just-- scratch his scalp, but so,  _ so  _ much better. The teen shuddered, wiggling away from his brother. 

That’s when it hit him.

He just  _ petted him. _

And it felt  _ nice. _

“What the fuck?”

Ghostbur giggled, fucking  _ giggled  _ at him. Tommy squaked, rounding on his dead brother, hands clenched into fists and the feeling of…  _ something _ flaring out behind him. His wings. He had fucking wings! The ghost only burst out laughing.

“Stop laughing at me, prick! You’re so fucking awful, you’re a horrible peice of shit! You’re so fucked up, you are a fucked up bitch-”

“You get fluffier when you’re mad!” Ghostbur cooed between his laughter. Tommy stomped his foot down, ears red.

“I don’t! I’m a big and intimidating man! Stop- stop laughing at me! I am  _ not _ some little baby bird or whatever you just said-”

“- you are! You are so small, a little chick, aren’t you?” The ghost grinned, settling his hands on his shoulders. Tommy tried to swat at his hands, he really did, but Ghostbur was a huge dick and wouldn’t back off. He peered over the younger’s shoulder, squinting at them slightly. “It’s all-- uh, down? I think it’s down. Sometimes Phil would let me ‘n Tech preen his wings for him. I remember that! Oh, did he teach you how to preen his wings? When the pin feathers start growing in, it won’t take too long for your wings to grow in. That’s what Phil said, I’m pretty sure! He-”

“Alright, alright! Back off, Ghostbur.” Tommy ducked under the other’s hands, letting out a sharp hiss when he reached forward again. Ghostbur stilled and cocked his head to the side all while he slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I… did not mean to do that,” he squeaked between fingers.

Ghostbur didn’t seem to mind, lips curling up into a cat-like grin.

"Do you purr?"

"What the fuck type of question is  _ that!" _ Tommy screeched, flailing his arms up. "Why would you go up to someone and ask that! Meh meh meh meh I'm Ghostbur and I ask too many questions, meh meh meh. That's what you sound like, do  _ you  _ purr, asshole--"

"Well, it's more of a rumble--"

"- Holy fucking shit, nevermind, you can do  _ what now?" _

"I was just asking because, well, me and Techno kinda just-- do happy rumbles, and I'm sure I've heard Phil purr, but he makes a lot of bird noises--" Ghostbur gestures around, like he's expecting Tommy to understand. Well, Tommy  _ has  _ seen Techno headbutt Wilbur in Pog-- actually, he'd prefer to not remember that time!

Phil  _ did _ use to chirp at the three of them, or coo, or whatever. Never purr, Tommy never heard any of them purr. Holy shit, they were animals. They’re all animals. Did Tubbo--?

"Why the fuck are we-- stop getting in my head and shit! I don't want to think about purring or making animal noises, we should just called this family a fucking zoo at this point!"

“It’s a bit rude--”   
  


“I am a huge and enormous man, I’m not fuckin’ rude--”

_ “Anyway,” _ Ghostbur cut in, waving his hand, “you’re still going to be growing your wings, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you started growing more traits of Phil’s.”

Tommy blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m just saying, it might be better to move you somewhere else, you know,” Ghostbur says, pointedly casting his gaze to the side, “since you’re growing extra limbs, and don’t think I didn’t notice those little bumps on your forehead.”

Tommy blinked, raising a hand up to his temple. He didn’t even notice them himself. The blond scowled, crossing his arms and kicking out his feet.

“‘S nothing. There’s nowhere to go anyway, I’m exiled from L’manberg, no one’s come to visit me and it’s been  _ weeks.  _ You’d think they would, but they’re all fuckin’ assholes! None of them-”

The dead man laughs at him.  _ Laughs _ at him! Again! How many times has he done this today? “Look here, bitch, asshole, ghostly motherfucker-”

“Tommy, calm down,” Ghostbur says between little giggles. It’s still all echo-y and wow, Tommy doesn’t like that sound. He wishes it was normal, or at least it sounded like Wilbur, not some shell of him. “You’re forgetting someone. Or two, someone’s to be exact, and considering that one lives very close and you’re starting to grow antlers n’ wings like the other, I’m sure our family-- Techno and Phil--”

Panic, ice cold down his back and stealing the breath out of his lungs, choking him. Dread had him in a vice grip, holding him still. He couldn’t move. Techno-- Techno tried to  _ kill him, _ he never really cared for him, did he? He just wanted chaos, anarchy, whatever it was to tear away the safe place, the home that he and Wilbur-- the real Wilbur-- built together. And Phil, he had seen Phil in the midst of the fight, all those weeks ago, he watched him slice at his brother and then stab him in the stomach. Two hits, it was two hits that killed him, and he didn’t hesitate, what if he--

“No!” Ghostbur blinked in shock, hands dropping to his sides. Tommy shook his head frantically, taking a step back. “No, you can’t get Phil, or Techno. You can’t, Techno’s a traitor, he betrayed me--  _ us-- _ and Phil hasn’t visited me once, he’s probably going to laugh or just ignore me or something, ‘n Techno only visited to make fun of me, he hates my guts, Wil, neither of them would help me they’ll just--”

Ghostbur raised his hands up, like Tommy was a stray animal that he had to console. “It’s alright, Tommy. I won’t say anything, okay?”

“I don’t know how to take care of these,” Tommy realizes out loud. “Holy shit. I don’t even know what Phil is, let alone what I am now! Holy shit, am I going to grow bird feet? I don’t want to be an overgrown bird!”

He raked a hand through his hair. This wasn’t good-- what if he did something and hurt himself? What would Dream--?   
  


Oh no.

Tommy whipped around, gripping onto Ghostbur’s arms. He blinked down at the blond in shock, yet Tommy just tightened his hold. “Ghostbur, you got to keep this quiet. You can’t tell anyone, not Phil, not Techno, and  _ never _ say anything to Dream. Please don’t-- fuck, are you going to even remember that?”

Ghostbur blinked again.

“Fuck! Why won’t you say anything? Oh no, please don’t tell Dream, who know what he’d do, probably fuckin’ cut them off, and that’d hurt  _ more, _ I don’t even know how he feels about hybrids! Oh fuck, shit, he’s my friend, he probably won’t care--”

“Tommy.”

“But what if he gets Phil over? That would-- what?”

“It’s alright, take a breather. I’ll get you some blue, here.” Slowly, watching Tommy and making sure he could see his movements, Ghostbur reached down and pulled out some of his blue. Coming closer, he pressed the crystal into Tommy’s hand.

The blond blinked down at it.

“I won’t tell anyone about it, alright?” Tommy looked up sharply at Ghostbur’s voice.

“Promise?”

“I promise, c’mon Toms, let's find if there’s anything to hide your wings with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally got this out ha,,,,,, i keep getting distracted while writing and then dont touch it for a day. oh well though !! still liking it so far !!
> 
> thank yall for the support from the first chapter <:] it means a lot !! thank you for reading !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy develops some habbits.
> 
> dream comes back from his trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> careful of some manipulation and abuse this chapter

Days passed slowly after he manifested his wings, each day bleeding into each other with no one but Ghostbur to accompany him. Some times, he’d be annoyed with the ghost of his brother, but he had no clue what to do and being left alone seemed horrible, honestly.

It didn’t help that he felt, well, clingy. He didn’t want to be alone, he just wanted to be with someone. Anyone who’d let him.

Ghostbur was there at least, and he had some knowledge of what to do with wings.

They had sat, Tommy with his legs crossed and head against his fist and Ghostbur across from him, and he was told everything the spectator could remember about Phil. How to take care of his wings and antlers, whenever those grew in, any noises he’d probably make, and the likes. 

It was terribly boring. 

But it took less than three days for his wings to grow a bit bigger, still not large enough to carry him, and then the pin feathers came in.

It was  _ itchy _ and  _ uncomfortable _ and honestly, he just _ had _ to grow them in exile! It would have been better before, at least then he could have had made Tubbo help and hold him until they became less… weird and Tommy got used to them. Not that he was clingy or some shit. It was probably the bird instincts or something. Not him, he was a big man and didn’t need any comfort.

When the pin feathers started to grow, Ghostbur had forced him to sit down so he could check them out for himself. He absolutely did  _ not _ melt. Not at all, even if being…  _ pet  _ felt nice and distracted him from the itch.

(“All of them look healthy,” Ghostbur had said, gently taking one of the feathers and setting it right, “none of them look like they’re blood feathers.”

He didn’t get a response from Tommy. Well, a coherent one at least, as his face was pressed into a blanket that Ghostbur had traded for, soft and grey and bundled in Tommy’s arms. He was practically falling over and purring.

When his hands stilled, Tommy whined, pressing his wings back into Ghostbur’s hands. “Don’ stop, s’ nice.”

Ghostbur had laughed gently, and continued to sort out his wings.)

With new feathers, and with Dream not coming back for who knew how long, Tommy made himself some armor. Better safe than sorry, and plus, Dream would understand.

And of course, he got more than just feathers.

Tommy started… well, he didn’t know  _ what _ it was, but things started to catch his eyes more and he just couldn’t stop wanting to just take it and hide it away. Shiny things, like gold or iron ingots and diamonds, plus more practical things like tools and whatever armor he  _ could _ make, ender pearls and potions he could trade and gather.

It just felt good. It was nice to take things and hide it away, because it was  _ his.  _ He had his own items he could call his own.

He had dug up a little hole under the cabin, and something nagged in the back of his mind until he found himself not only bringing down  _ those  _ things to put in chests, but blankets and cloth and wool as well.

Tommy made the pile again.

(If Ghostbur came looking for him, popped his head down and saw Tommy sitting in it, wings wrapped around himself and cozy in it, that was no one’s business but his.

The spector had laughed at him, settling down next to Tommy, and leaned on him with a grin. Tommy had just stared at him, annoyed, but he relented and let Ghostbur stay. Not without grumbling out some colorful words, though.

“Aw, look at you, you made another nest!”

“Shut the fuck up, Ghostbur.”

“It looks nice!”

“... Thanks, I guess. Bitch.”)

At least it was hidden pretty well, underneath the floorboard where, when Dream came back, he wouldn’t notice or see. He didn’t know what Dream would do if he knew he was hiding things from him.

After a few days after he made his second… “nest”, whatever the hell that meant, he developed  _ something _ . Or something like that, because his throat felt like something was crawling up and he couldn’t stop making  _ noise. _

At first it was just a way to let out energy. Being loud, yelling and whatnot, but then it just didn’t  _ feel  _ right. He was doing something wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Five days after Dream left four since he sprouted wings, and he woke up to the sound of chirping.

There weren't really any birds around for his exile. And suddenly, there was, which was kind of weird, considering that it was nearly Christmas and you’d think they’d migrated already. Apparently not, when he blinked awake to birdsong.

That’s when it clicked in his head, an idea of what was wrong with his voice, and so he put it to the test.

(Ghostbur had found him under a tree later, chirping back to the bird that hung around the branches. He had smiled, settled down with some blue in his hands, and listened to both his brother and the birds he befriended.

It didn’t last long for Tommy, though, as after he ate something for lunch and sat back down, it was silent.

He chirped and called and sang and crowed, but no one ever answered.

The birds had left.)

It turned out his wings grew faster than a regular bird. It made sense, seeing as he was bigger and cooler than them.

A week in, and the grey down that covered his wings started to come off when he ran his hands through it. Molting, Ghostbur had said.

As Tommy’s wings started to grow bigger, reaching his hip, the feathers started to grow in more, red and gold and white. He liked the colors, it reminded him of his shirt. Plus, red was the superior color anyway. A bit sad that there wasn’t that much, compared to the gold and white.

He still thought they looked good to him, and Tommy couldn’t help but puff out the feathers with a grin.

It fit him. He liked them. He liked his wings.

(When Ghostbur came around again, he couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of Tommy. Tommy scowled down at him from where he was tangled in a tree.

“How’d you even get up there?”

“I thought I could fly, dickhead!”

“You only have pin feathers, little bird, they’re just growing in!”

“Stop laughing at me and get me down, bitch boy!”)

[]

“Ghostbur!” Tommy paced around, trying to spot familiar yellow between the trees. There was no sight of him at all. The wings puffed up without his permission, and Tommy felt his gut twist up. The blond chalked off the ruffling of his feathers as annoyance, not the growing fear. “Ghostbur, come out! I need you!”

Still no sign. The teen hissed, kicking at the dirt like it was the answer. He needed to find something, anything to cover up the wings. How long had it been since Dream left? Since anyone visited? Anyone could come through the portal, anyone could row up to shore, and they’d catch sight of his wings. Who knows what anyone would do!

Tommy’s breath caught in his throat, choking him. Everyone thought he was  _ human, _ he wished he still was but Prime, what would they do if they saw him like this? Yeah, a lot of people on the server were hybrids, but they’d tell Phil and Phil never took any time to help him here. It was always Techno, always Wilbur, but in Tommy’s time in this Prime forsaken server he just left him alone. 

Tommy didn’t like being alone.

There was a pang of guilt in his chest, twisting, and the blond shook his head. It wasn’t fair of him to think that way, right? Because Techno and Wilbur were both his brothers and they had their own problems, it wasn’t fair at all. 

He just wanted to be a son for once, wanted his family back!

Tommy dropped to a crouch with a whine. Why was everything so confusing?

He just wanted to be back to normal again, or as close as normal as he could. But he couldn’t just-- get  _ rid  _ of wings, or the bumps near his temples, or the bird noises and purring and hissing, or the fucking bird brain instincts he developed over a week.

Why’d he have to start growing everything  _ now  _ of all times? In exile, nonetheless?

Curse his shitty luck, and fuck Phil and his stupid hybrid ass for being his father.

He was quickly cut out of his thoughts.

The cabin, right! Maybe in the pile under the floorboards, surely there was something for him there. Working fast, Tommy hopped up and made his way back into Logstedshire, and into the cabin.

Poking his way into his little hidey-hole, Tommy settled down next to his pile. He… really did  _ not  _ want to mess it up, but if anyone were to visit and see his wings…

Tommy hesitated before he dug in, rifling through wool, blankets and cloth when he caught sight of a familiar brown sleeve. He latched onto it, pulling it out and looking it over. 

It was a trenchcoat, brown and black, and--

Oh.

Tommy blinked down at the hole in the middle of it. That’s why.

Letting out a small, shuddering breath, and slipped it on. He’d have to make due with it. It was better than nothing at all.

[]

He only got a day with Wilbur’s coat when he got a visitor. Well, not really a visitor, more so his  _ only _ visitor.

Tommy turned towards the sound of the portal warping, feathers twitching under the brown coat. Thank god for Ghostbur and his collection of clothes. A crude smile carved into ceramic poked out around the corner, and the teen was hit with a tidal wave of emotions. His friend was back, Dream was back! Relief flooded his limbs, made his lips twitch up, and he barely even noticed he was already barreling over and into the green-clad man.

Dream let out a small “oof”, the two of them almost falling over with the amount of force Tommy crashed into the man. He laughed lightly, one arm coming to wrap around his back and the other tangling itself in blond hair. “I see someone missed me?”

“I d-- I did,” Tommy mumbled, nosing his face into Dream’s shoulder, “you came back!”

“I said I would, Tommy,” he pulled away, setting both hands on his shoulder, “would I ever lie to you?”

“No, no, of course not! You’re-- you’re my friend!” 

“And friends don’t lie to each other, right? Anyway--” He pulled away, tugging Tommy along and towards Logstedshire’s entrance, to which he followed. Dream reached into his inventory, pulling out something wrapped as they walked in. “--I got the balm you asked for, Niki had some to spare, thankfully. I may have lied about who it was for, because I’m not sure she would have given it to me if I said it was for you.”

The man laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck like what he said wasn’t a stab through his heart. Did everyone really hate Tommy  _ that _ much?

The balm was held out to him, wrapped up neatly. He blinked down at it, and that’s when he remembered the rash he had complained about. The rash that turned out to be his wings growing in, and he didn’t need it.

Dream didn’t wait for him to open his mouth, instead sighing and pushing the tin into his hand. Tommy couldn’t see his face, but the way he tilted his head, the way he spoke with his voice dripping with disappointment, fear slid down his back. “If it went away, then you can save it for later. It’s rude of you to refuse a gift like that, Tommy.”

“Right, right, sorry Dream,” Tommy muttered, slipping it into one of the coat’s pockets. “I’ll probably just, I don’t know, fall into it again. Sorry.”

“Mistakes are made,” he muttered. Then, leaning down slightly, he rested his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. He drummed his fingers against the cool metal of his armor, and if he could see his eyes Tommy was sure he would be looking him up and down. “Speaking of mistakes, what’s this?”

Tommy jolted, quickly loosening the straps on his sides. “Sorry, I almost forgot! Uh, you were just, gone for a whole week, y’know? So I thought ‘hey, if Dream isn’t going to be here, then--’ y’know how you said you wanted to protect me or some shit? I thought, ‘it’s better than accidentally getting shot by some fuckin’ skeleton.’”

Dream hummed, he didn’t even notice he already had a shovel out and digging.

“Yeah, yeah, and uh, it was for something because, yeah, well, there was this zombie that somehow got a hold of an iron sword and-- let me tell you, I was already going to win because I’m a Big Man and big men don’t die-- but it swung at me and I couldn’t really dodge that fast and it could have taken my arm off! My fucking arm! I need that, you know, could you imagine being armless--”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Dream cut in. Tommy stilled, half way done with getting his boots off. “Armor in the hole.”

Tommy nodded solemnly, quickly getting the other boot off and dropping it in.

He watched as Dream set an explosive into the hole, as he pressed flint and steel into his hands.

With a flick of his wrist, the fuse was lit, and Tommy stepped back.

The tnt went off, dirt spraying everywhere. Tommy couldn’t do much but clench and unclench his hands. Armor was-- it was just a small price to pay for some company.

It was better than having no one there. 

Grimacing, Tommy spun around and started walking back towards his trnet.

“Can we go somewhere better now? I found this cool clearing, there where some pretty fucking neat plants there. I don’t know what the hell they are but then I thought-- I thought, ‘my Big Man friend Dream probably knows, he’s a survivalist or some shit.’ and you know, you’re my Big Man friend,” Tommy rambled on, waving his arms about, “so why-- uh… Are you not coming?”

He turned on his heel, hands dropping down. Dream was standing there, staring at the hole in the ground. Tommy blinked, slowly approaching it and the other.

“Uh, is something wrong, Big D?”

It wasn’t that hard for him to spot what Dream was looking down at.

“Tommy,” Dream said, low and warning. Ice-cold fear ran down his back, the small wings pressing against his sides like he was trying to hold himself. He couldn’t see his face, he never could, but Tommy could  _ feel _ his hardened stare leveling him out. “What’s this?”

Tommy blinked back tears, staring down at the now exposed room. He couldn’t say anything, the buzz in his head too loud and the fear stealing his breath away. He watched, trembling, as the man didn’t even wait for an answer. He just hopped down like it was nothing, and opened the chest.

The blond stumbled, tripping over his feet as he tried to back away. Dream was going to kill him. He was going to take his last life away and he’d be gone forever. Or Dream was going to put him somewhere further, he was going to leave him alone to rot or die or whatever and that was so,  _ so _ much worse than death.

Dream picked something up from inside the chest, looking it over. Tommy could pinpoint the exact moment that he realized what type of potion it was, as his head snapped up fast enough that it made him flinch back. “Dream, it’s-- it’s not what it--!”

_ “Strength, _ you have a strength potion. A regen, more strength, what were you planning on doing with these, Tommy?” 

“Nothing! I was just-- it wasn’t for, I would never--”

“Never  _ what?” _ He snarled. “Never hide anything from me? Never hide  _ weapons _ from me? Never _ hurt _ me? Would you do this to Tubbo?”

Tommy shook his head frantically. “No-- I wasn’t, I promise! I was just, I just wanted to keep something--”

_ “Keep _ something? You mean hide it away? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dream shut the chest harshly, pulling something out of his inventory. He was already dropping it down when Tommy realized what it was.

“Wait-- no--!”

It was too late, as Dream had already knocked in an arrow and lit it. Tommy jerked forward, wings pushing from under his coat and would be flaring out if he had not been wearing it, but the other had already let the string go and the explosives lit with a  _ hiss. _

The room went off in a blast of yellows and oranges and the smell of gunpowder, the amount that was destroyed weighed down on the foundation of the cabin. It creaked, Tommy reached out to Dream again, apologies on his lips. 

His head whipped around, Tommy could imagine the man looking him over, before he set more.

_ “Weapons,” _ he hissed, “weapons, enderpearls, potions, and--”

Dream laughed, angry and grating. He lit another fuse, stepping from out of the cabin and back into the sun. It sounded off behind him, the cabin crumbling under its own weight.

“-- The blankets, the  _ feathers,  _ I should have known! You’re-- you’re Philza’s little  _ songbird, _ aren’t you?” He sneered.

Tommy flinched back, cowering away from the green clad man.

_ “Wings,  _ Tommy. You hid the fact you’re a hybrid. You hid chests  _ full _ of items from me!” Dream whipped his arm out, gesturing to the now destroyed remains of the cabin. Tommy flinched back. “What type of friend does that to someone? Don’t you care? I should just leave you here. Maybe that’ll--”

“No,” Tommy cried, reaching out, he couldn’t be left alone again, “no, no no no, please, I’ll be good! I’ll do anything--!”

“-- Do  _ not _ cut me off,” he hissed, striding forward and gripping Tommy’s wrist. Tommy cried out again, trying to pull his hand back, trying to get away from Dream. “I thought I taught you enough lessons, but I can make this one the worst you’ve ever had. I should have half the mind to cut off those  _ disgusting limbs. _ ”

His wings twitched.

Hysteria bubbled up from his chest at that. He was going to cut them off, he was going to bleed out and die out here, he  _ just _ grew them and he was starting to like them and now they were going to be ripped from him. Tommy was going to die, he didn’t  _ want _ to die. 

“No, no-- Dream I-- please don’t--” Tommy sobbed, curling away from Dream. The elder gripped his wrist harder, bones scraping together painfully, and pulled him closer.

_ “Eyes open.  _ You’re going to watch me blow this entire place up.”

Tommy wrapped his arms around himself, choking on his cries. He didn’t want to, he worked  _ so hard, _ he didn’t deserve this.

A hand curled in his hair, yanking harshly, and he let out another sob. Dream sneered down at him, gripping his chin and forcing Tommy to look at Logstedshire. “I said you’re going to watch me blow it up, now  _ do it.” _

Dream let go of his chin and he gasped, trying desperately not to start sobbing all over again. He couldn’t even see between his cloudy vision filled with tears. He could make out the colors though, and with each tnt that went off, Tommy curled more and more into himself.

He was going to die surrounded by gunpowder, just like Wilbur.

He didn’t want to be here, he shouldn’t have hid anything from Dream. Dream always found out, one way or another.

Tommy didn’t know when they stopped, mostly due to the fact he couldn’t hear anything over his own panicked breathing and the ringing. He stifled yet another cry, a hand pressed into his mouth. He didn’t even notice Dream coming back over.

“Tommy,” Dream sighed, louder than his breathing and the ringing and disappointment and still that hint of anger and oh, this is it, he's going to kill him and he’s going to die. “Tommy,  _ look _ at me when I’m talking to you.”

Tommy couldn’t hold in the whimper, flinching at the sound of his own voice. He curled up more into himself, knuckles white where they were clenched in his shirt.

“Tommy,” he said again, more harder, and Tommy looked up after a beat of silence.

Porcelain stared back down at him. Tommy shuddered, hands shaking, but he forced himself not to look away.

The man sighed again, crouching down and gathering the blond into his arms. Tommy shuddered, wanting to be blocks and blocks away from him but wanting to be  _ comforted, _ and he was the only one there.

“This would have never had happened if you had just listened to me,” Dream sighed, one hand carding through his hair, pushing his head into his shoulder, while the other gently pried the coat down so he could pet his wings. It wasn’t like when Ghostbur did it, it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t warm or nice, it just filled him with more dread. But he was  _ warm _ , and Tommy missed contact so much. Real, human contact. “It’s your fault, Tommy. We could have just hung out, and now no one’s going to visit you.”

Tommy gasped for air, pressing his tear-stained face into the other’s cloak. 

“W-what…?” He croaked.

“I’ve decided,” Dream started, moving his head so he was tucked under his chin, gently rocking them back and forth, “no one’s allowed to visit you. No visits, no gifts. That includes Ghostbur, and I’ll see to it that it’s followed.”

Tears welled up in his eyes yet again, and Tommy tried to pull himself away but Dream kept his head firmly pressed against him. 

“You can’t--” Tommy couldn’t finish, his voice failing him at then end.

Dream tightened his hold, and all Tommy could do was whimper.

“I can and I will. Those who visit you give you too many ideas. On that, you’re not allowed into the Nether either.” Then, softer, relaxing his hold and continuing to pet him, “It’s for your own good, Tommy. You know better.”

“I don’t-- you- you can’t--” Tommy was cut off by his own shuddering sob. “I don’t-- don’t l-leave--”

“Tommy, you broke my trust, I don’t want to see you.” 

Dream started to pull away, and Tommy gripped his cloak with shaking, weak hands. They were pulled off forcefully, and the green-clad man stood and started walking off yet again.

_ “Don’t _ break my trust again,” Dream called behind him, “or you’ll get something even worse, songbird.”

Tommy curled up on his side.

The portal warped, and he was gone.

And Tommy was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again surprised at the amount of support ive been getting for this fic  
> im glad yall like my incredibly self indulgent writing lol
> 
> [someone asked what color his wings are](https://www.instagram.com/p/CJ_jp8bF2Ac/?igshid=1kvbgmyj1dq3w) and yeah i did answer that, but here's some of my art from a bit ago for a better image of what they look like !!
> 
> have a great day/night, wherever you are !!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> techno goes hunting. ghostbur comes along and they head towards logstedshire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for this chapter being shorter than usual but here yall go !!
> 
> techno pov fo today. just wabted to write him and ghostbur, yknow. jsut a little bit of some twin wil + techno supremacy

Coming from the nether, he’s always had a love-hate relationship with the cold. He was a  _ piglin, _ for Prime’s sake, he wasn’t tiny but he was small, and Phil had come into the Nether looking for ancient debris and came out with two new sons. It was the Nether, burning all day and night, and neither of them had seen snow.

Wilbur had been scared of it at first, and looking back, he’s always chuckled lightly at the memory of him freaking out when he woke up to a white morning for the first time. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a  _ little _ terrified as well. 

It was cold, colder than either of them had ever been, and it was a wonderful difference compared to the stifling heat he was used to.

Techno’s loved the sight of it since he was just a little piglet with Wilbur, and he’s made two homes in the tundra. He loves the feeling of the cold, sharp and biting. He thinks it fits him more than the Nether.

Like any other Nether-born creatures, however, he’s been more susceptible to the cold. Yet there wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, not with the help of Phil and Wilbur, the both of which had helped him make fur-lined clothes and capes and such to keep him warm.

He’s always loved the snow, the ice, and all of it’s chilling wind.

And so, here he is, stalking the snowy forest that rests beyond his little cottage house he built for himself, crossbow in hand. 

The voices, while they had been more quieter during his retirement, had been starting to rise for the past week or so. More often than not, he didn’t really have a clue on what they wanted nor what they were talking about. Of course there was the never-ending chanting for blood, however what started as a few whispers had grown into a large part of the mix.

Something about wings and antlers, needing to protect the “little bird.” Phil had visited only a day or two ago, and they had been going on for longer than that.

Today there had been an uprising with his head, behind his temples, thousands of voices that weren’t his own, all crying out for blood and this “little bird.” He couldn’t fix the latter, but he could help with the blood they craved.

“Chat, you can’t tell me to protect something’ if you’re not going to tell me  _ what _ it is,” Techno grumbled out, raising a hooved hand to press into his temple, “I’m  _ hunting _ at the moment, give it a rest.”

A chorus of collective voices go wild at the mere mention of the thing they’ve been talking about, and he winces. He doesn’t know what  _ little bird _ is, but they’re a constant onslaught of the same name and phrases.

It’s a bit annoying. It’s extremely annoying.

Techno let out a soft huff of frustration, focusing back in on his surroundings, and the wildlife that’s around him. If there’s one thing he’s glad about, being a hybrid, it’s that he’s able to hear the crunching of footsteps too small to be anything other than an animal.

The piglin stalks his forrest, and that’s when he catches sight of his oblivious prey.

Standing there in the snow is a sheep.

The bolt is loaded, quickly and quietly. Techno breathes in, aiming at the sheep’s head. The piglin holds his breath for a moment, watching the animal as it grazes on a patch of grass not yet covered in snow. The world is silent, his head is loud, and Techno--

“Techno,” a voice echos from not-too-far, startling the sheep in front of him, “my dearest brother who is three-minutes older!”

The anarchist sighes, ears drooping down as he watches what could have been such a  _ nice _ meal run off through the trees and out of sight. So long for mutton. Or lamb jerky to snack on.

“Hello, Ghostbur,” Techno greets quietly, standing up from his crouched position, “you scared off my dinner.”

A bush to his right rustles, too big to be another animal, and out pop’s his dead brother’s head. “Oh, I apologize for that! I got a little lost in here, and then I saw you!”

Techno blinks. “Lost? Aren’t you supposed to be someplace else? Y’know, with the little menace?”

Ghostbur hums, looking around like he could physically see his memories.

“Nope,” he seems to settle on, “I had to go out!”

“Go out for what?”

“I was… looking for something? Oh, yes,” Ghostbur nods to himself, “I needed to tell someone something!”

“What?” The elder twin asks, feeling frustration building up. He loves his brother, he really does, but his ghost is somewhat infuriating, to be completely transparent. “What did you have to say?”

“Well… I think I needed to bring someone back to Logstedshire?”

“Logstedshire? That’s the… log thing Tommy is staying at.” 

Ghostbur makes a noise of affirmation.

“... Is Tommy… alright?” 

Techno would admit, he wasn’t all too fond of his youngest brother at the moment. Nether, their last talk was less of a talk and more of the pigling picking at the other. But he was  _ right,  _ they ended up exiling Tommy after implementing yet another government, just like Techno had said during L’Manberg’s last war.

Tommy was his brother though, he’d always be, and even if the kid was a menace and never listened he was still his brother. That would never erase their childhood, and as much as Techno would hate to admit it, he  _ missed  _ the kid.

Not that he let it show on his face, especially in front of Ghostbur.

The spector didn’t seem to notice anyway. Thank Prime for his short attention span, Techno did not want an emotional conversation at this time. Ghostbur only hummed, resting a finger on his bottom lip. 

“Not really, actually, he’s been…” The ghost trailed off for a moment, blinking slowly somewhere behind Techno’s shoulder. The older of the twins raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder. To no surprise, there was nothing there.

Techno turned back, just in time to see his twin’s ghost snap back into reality. “-- Fine! Perfectly fine, he’s doing great in Logstedshire.”

The piglin blinks, slowly, turning to face Ghostbur fully. “You said he wasn’t…?”

Ghostbur laughs, and it sounds a little forced. “My bad! You know, I don’t have the best memory around!”

Wilbur was a great liar, he really was, but Techno knew his twin like the back of his hand. He had always been the first and quickest person to pick up on him, or anyone in the family for that matter. 

Ghostbur, bless his heart, was decidedly a worse liar than Tommy.  _ That _ was saying something.

The voices seemed to agree.  _ Liebur, _ they laugh.

Techno snorts at that.

“Whatever you say then,” he huffs, turning back to trudge through the woods, “since you’re already here, you can help me pack a little.”

“Pack?” He parrots, and after a moment’s hesitation the ghost is trailing behind him.

“Yes, pack. A little bit of food, maybe some potions. The likes.”

“What for?”

He spares Ghostbur a glance. While Techno’s caught on from the lines in between what he had been saying, the ghost of his twin seems not to. He’s staring, head cocked to one side, but not directly at him. Just taking in the snow and the hills surrounding the two of them and his home.

Not paying attention, not really, like their conversation is background noise to him.

Techno huffs and faces the door to his cabin.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful with me, Ghostbur,” he grunts, pushing the door to his cabin open, “I’m going to Logstedshire”

That seemed to catch the ghost’s attention fast. Techno didn’t even have to turn around to imagine what his twin’s face looked like. It was probably that grimace he did when he was caught up in a lie, nose scrunched up and all. 

Like when he was alive. Like when they were younger, and Wilbur got caught with something. He missed the days before any of them joined this SMP.

The pigling blinked, shaking off that thought, and began to look through his chests.

“That’s not the best idea…?” The spector mummers, head tilting. “Tommy said-- well, he really didn’t  _ want _ anyone there last time I spoke to him. Except for, maybe me?”   
  
Well, that made sense. Techno’s last and only visit to his brother was him poking fun at his exile. He was  _ right, _ after all, he should be able to gloat a little. Plus, Techno  _ did _ spawn a bunch of withers and sicked them on Tommy and his new government. 

Served him right, calling _ him  _ a traitor when Tommy saw him as a tool instead of family.

“Why’re here then? You said you were going to be bringing someone back there. That’s where he is, right?” He pointed out, reaching in to grab a loaf or two of bread, carefully wrapped in cloth. One in case of him getting hungry, and another to offer to Tommy in case he’s still upset with him. Prime knows you can win Tommy over, even if it’s just a little, with a bit of food or a small gift.

“I did?” Ghostbur mumbled, mostly to himself. It takes him a moment, and he snaps his fingers. “I did! Yes, I need to bring someone there, I’m not sure how to help him.”

Techno stills from where he crouches, hands still digging through his supplies. The piglin steals a glance to where he stores his potions. The voices cry out, most of them repeating the same question he has.

“Help him? Is he injured?” He asks, standing up from his crouched position. Something is twisting in his gut, making his voice only a tad more shaky than the usual monotone. He’s not worried, it’s  _ not _ fear.

“Well, uh.” Ghostbur paused, then the same look from earlier crossed his face. Techno’s brows furrowed slightly, stepping forward to rest his hooved hands on the ghost’s shoulders.

“Don’t lie to me, Ghostbur.”

Ghostbur blinks. “... He was, for a little bit, but now, not exactly?”

Techno spins around and marches out the door, the spector floating right behind him. He watches as he puts boots on Carl, watches as Techno packs him up.

The piglin pushes himself up and over his horse’s back, swinging a leg over, and looks behind him.

Ghostbur fidgeted behind Carl and Techno raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Y’know you can come with me, right?”

“... Are you sure? I don’t want Tommy to get mad because I brought you. And you’re upset at me.”

“I’m not upset  _ at  _ you. Just a little worried for that gremlin.” The piglin snorts, tilting his head. “Did he say he doesn’t want me there  _ specifically? _ Thought my favorite pest would want company, being in exile and all.”

Ghostbur wrings his hands together and pointedly ignores his twin.

“Oh.”

_ “Yeah,  _ he was a little upset earlier when I mentioned getting you,” Ghostbur mutters, glancing over his shoulder. “But-- I am  _ not _ good with what’s going on with him, and all the spotty gaps and me not being able to remember the  _ bad.” _

“Huh,” Techno says, and then pats behind him, Carl huffing softly, “well it  _ sounds _ like an emotional problem and I thought you knew me, being my twin and all--”

Ghostbur stifles a bout of giggles, because of course he does. Techno shoots him a  _ look. _

“-- you’d know I’m not good with feelings.” He finishes. Ghostbur nods once.

“Well, I thought Phil would be, well, better in every other problem than you but,” he gestures to the treeline, “I got lost. And L’Manberg is so much further.”

“Uh huh, you got lost.”

Ghostbur scowls at him, and he’s so like Wilbur, with the corners of his mouth curling up slightly in barely-suppressed laughter and his left eyebrow twitching, he knows it’s all jokes. 

But he insists that he’s not Wilbur, and so Techno won’t call him that.

(He really,  _ really _ misses before any of them stepped in this hell hole.)

“C’mon, get up here.”

The spector grins up at him, and they’re both off, Ghostbur tucked into Techno’s back and making sure the pack of small supplies doesn’t fall. 

Techno never memorized how to get to Logstedshire, but where he doesn’t know Wilbur fills in,a tree he slightly recognizes, a handprint of blue that he stamped into a tree stump from the corner of his eye. It’s nice, just the two of them.

Ghostbur chats idly, a constant as they trudge through the tundra and snow-ridden forest, and then through the little field that’s surrounded by dark oak trees and huge mushrooms. 

“You could make your mushroom stew,” the ghost comments as they pass by a relatively large patch of them, “though I’m a little glad I can’t eat it anymore.”

Techno scoffs and attempts to shoulder him off of Carl. Ghostbur only laughs, and they continue through the forest.

They trek through, finally seeing the treeline break as the forest begins to thin out into a field. Techno frowns.

“Ghostbur,” he says, getting a hum out of the spector, “does it smell kind of weird, out here?”

His twin’s ghost pauses at that.

“Yes, actually. Kind of like, burning. Gunpowder,” he comments.

Techno’s frown deepened, but they soldered on.

A tower was slowly growing when the two of them get there, stretching into the sky. Messily made, the blocks were stacked haphazardly, swaying not so gently in the wind.

Ghostbur lets out a strangled cry, and Techno follows his gaze up, up, up…

There’s a tuft of blond hair on the top, ripped red and white that was covered in dirt and tears, kakis that were torn. It’s a signature look, it’s his signature outfit.

It was Tommy.

_ It was Tommy. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gets better soon i swear it gets better soon


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little talk between brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for suicide this chapter, but nothing actually happens
> 
> continuing w that techno pov grind

The voices are screaming at him, screaming for his brother’s safety. A chorus of collective voices shouting at him, pounding at his temples.

The piglin shook his head.

“Tommy!” Techno shouts up to him, dropping everything in his hands and practically throwing himself off of Carl. Ghostbur follows suit. “Tommy, wait!”   
  


The tower stops building up, relief starts to worm into his chest. He can’t just leave it at that though, Tommy was still up there and he didn’t have a clue on whether or not he had a water bucket. 

Techno can see a little bit of white and gold from down below.

“... Techno?” A voice comes from above, strained and quiet and nothing like Tommy. 

“Tommy,” Ghostbur breathes, hand over his mouth, and he repeats it a second time, louder, “Tommy, what are you  _ doing?” _

A wet laugh follows from above, and guilt washes over him. He hadn’t visited since the first day and even then it wasn’t for him, it was to gloat. But neither him nor Tommy needs that right now, though, so he forcefully pushes it to the very back of his mind.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He says, and his heart breaks a little more.

What  _ happened _ to him?

“Can you come down from there?” Ghostbur called. “We can help you down!”

_ “Why?”  _ Tommy asks. “I-- It’s all ruined, and it’s my-- it’s my fault, I never listen, I pushed away the  _ only _ person who hadn’t visited out of pity and I messed up and now no one cares--”

“Tommy--”

“-- I  _ deserved  _ it, I c-- I can’t ever seem to listen, isn’t-- that’s why I got exiled in the first place!”

“You don’t--”

_ “Look, _ Techno, the-- Logstedshire’s blown up because I hid things, I hid these fucking--” Tommycut himself off, Techno barely caring a drawn-out growl from above.

“Who told you that, Toms?” Ghostbur called up, wringing out his hands. “Who said you deserved that? Tubbo, you said your friend--?”

“Tubbo-- Tubbo doesn’t  _ care!”  _ Tommy wails. 

“Of course he does! He’s your Tubbo!”

“But I-- I’m not his Tommy! He-- he-- Dream said he threw the compass into lava!”

"He didn't," Ghostbur breathes, and Techno knows he's way out of his depth here. Ghostbur floats closer to the tower and shakes his head. "He'd never do that, not to you. You're his Tommy-- he loves you!"

“Tubbo never visited me!” Tommy cried. “He said-- I thought he  _ would, _ but Dream-- Dream’s the only-- he’s my only  _ friend!” _

“What?” Techno looked up sharply, disbelieving. That wasn’t right, Tommy hated Dream. “Didn’t he take two of your lives? The man who’s tried to destroy your gov-- your, uh, country multiple times? Same guy we’re talking about?” 

_ “You _ set withers on L’manberg,” Tommy snapped. “You betrayed us, we-- we said we were going to take down Schlatt and then you--!”

“Tommy.”

“-- It wasn’t just L’manberg, it was-- it’s  _ home!  _ My home!”

“It doesn’t matter, Dream took you away from it, and you think he’s your  _ friend?” _

“He--” Tommy’s voice falters. “Dream-- you never visited either! Not you, not Phil,  _ nobody _ except for him and then I messed it up like I always do, and Dream’s my friend because he was-- is the only person who actually  _ cares--” _

“Breathe, child.” Ghostbur urges from below, shooting a glance to Techno.

“I--” Tommy chokes on what Techno can only assume is a sob, or cry, and it makes his gut twist up. “He’s--”

“Dream hurt you, didn’t he? He never was on your side.” Techno points out.

“He was supposed to be watching you, wasn’t he?” Ghostbur asks gently.

They both see Tommy still from the top of the pillar.

“He was,” Tommy says after a few beats of silence. “That’s-- that’s what he was here for. To  _ watch  _ me.”

Tommy laughs wetly, and Techno gestures towards the treeline.  _ Planks, to get up there, _ he mouths to Ghostbur. He nods, and heads in with an axe Techno holds out to him.

“He’s  _ scared _ of me. That’s why he made me leave, isn’t it? The reason he made Tubbo exile me?” Bitterness coats his voice, dripping with it. “I’m the only one-- from the beginning I was the only one to ever stand up to him. Get people to join me to stand up to Dream. He--” he lets out a stream of giggles “-- holy  _ shit, _ he tried to control me!”

Tommy dropped suddenly, head in hands as he sat on the tower. Techno bit back a shout as it swayed, staggering back in case he needed to quickly catch the blond.

“I thought he was my friend,” Tommy said, shaking his head, “He was-- no one but him came.”

“I was there, right after you were exiled.”

“You only visited once,” the teen snapped, glaring down at him, “and Dream was there for me every day.”

Tommy paused for a moment, and Techno watched as he ran a hand through his greasy hair and tugged.

“Every single day, and he-- I’m so stupid!” Tommy laughed, pulling again. “ He wasn’t there for me, he just used me. He just wanted me under his control or-- something like that, the sick bastard.”

Techno watched with bated breath as he slumped forward, shaking his head. 

“And he almost did,” Tommy spat out, hands clenching and unclenching. “And he almost did.”

Techno can see Ghostbur coming out of the treeline with his axe, and he can only assume that the ghost has blocks.

Finally,  _ finally _ . The piglin lets out a sigh of relief.   
  
“He can’t control you, Tommy,” Techno called. He watched as the blond shook his head and pushed himself up, standing once again. “He never could, you-- why don’t we get you down from there?”

There was a pause.

“Do you want me to build up--?”

“I can make it,” his little brother says, staring down at the water to the right of him. Fear grips Techno by the throat, and the voices that scream seem to be afraid too.

“No, no, no, no-- don’t do that, I have--” He quickly opens his inventory, fully preparing to grab a water bucket for the younger to hop into, but he doesn’t have it. He doesn’t have a water bucket, and he’s incredibly terrified for the boy who’s standing on a large tower. “-- I  _ can _ make a water bucket, just hold on--”

“I  _ got it,”  _ Tommy snaps.

Something stretches from the top of the pillar, red and gold and white, and then Tommy’s jumping off. The voices scream, Techno lets out a strangled shout and Ghostbur--

Ghostbur clasps his hands together and laughs.

Techno has a voice, multiple voices, telling to turn around and throw water at Wilbur, because he knows it wont kill him but he’ll melt and their bother just  _ jumped off a fucking tower how are he laugh,  _ but the piglin looks and he sees it.  _ Really  _ sees  _ him, _ and the wings that are stretched out behind him and slowing his fall.

“Holy  _ shit,” _ Techno breathes, relief hitting him like a truck and making him sway slightly. He stumbles closer to the ocean. Tommy lands in it and he’s  _ safe, _ and he runs a hand through pink hair.  _ “Holy fucking shit, _ Tommy!”

Tommy pulls himself back to the surface, trembling and gasping for air. Techno’s rolling up his pant legs as he rushes into the water while the blond drags himself back out. 

Techno meets him halfway and grasps onto his arms, pulling him up from the ocean. Tommy instantly latches onto him, shaking and sagging forward. Techno knows about how Phil’s wings get when they’re wet, heavy and weighing down if he doesn’t oil them correctly. It’s incredibly obvious that they don’t have the sheen to them, and he’s sure neither Tommy or Ghostbur  _ has _ oil.

A flurry of voices, all in different tones of fear and anger and grief tell him to  _ stop thinking about the wings _ and to  _ protect, comfort, help him. _

He shakes his head quickly, getting rid of any unnecessary thoughts because they’re  _ right. _ He starts to pull the kid out of the water, dragging him mostly. Tommy doesn’t seem to move very much, which makes it so much harder and his heart twist.

“Are you alright? Are you burned anywhere? Anything broken? Do you need a healing pot, a regen pot, gapple?” Techno asks, once they’re close enough to the shore. Tommy’s leaning all his weight onto him, Prime he’s so  _ light, _ but he doesn’t stop moving forward.

Panic fuels him when Tommy pauses for a moment, leaning heavily into Techno’s side, and makes a sad, small choked-up noise.

The blond shakes his head, still sucking in as much air as he can. Techno exhales sharply, relieved. He settles the younger on the sand, Ghostbur coming up hurriedly but flinching back each time a wave comes a little too close.

The teen wraps his arms around himself, his wings around himself, and Techno kneels. 

“Are you okay?” He asks gently. Prime, he’s not prepared for something like this, he wants to help but he doesn’t know  _ how. _

Tommy starts laughing then, a little too loud, too strained, and he keeps laughing. It’s unnerving, yes, but then he chokes, and that’s when Techno realizes that his face isn’t just wet from falling into the ocean. 

The piglin hovers nervously in front of the teen, hands outstretched but not touching, and suddenly he’s got an armful of a crying child. A crying winged child, who probably has  _ no  _ clue how to tuck his wings to his sides properly, which makes this very, very uncomfortable situation get worse. They’re just-- drooping.

Like how young birds who don’t know how to. Like the child he is.

It makes his heart hurt, just a little, because he’s _ so young. _

“I-- I’m so-- I’m so  _ stupid,” _ he chokes out, sobbing into his brother’s shirt, “I thought-- he said-- he was my-- my  _ friend _ and he just-- just-- he just--”

The blond can’t even get the words out, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Techno looks up, desperately catching Ghostbur’s attention with wide eyes. He doesn’t do well with comforting, but Ghostbur is looking like he’d skin him alive if he pulled Tommy away now. He wasn’t even going to do that!

“He just-- he j-just  _ watched me, _ he wanted muh- wanted me to be in-- under his control and he-- I-- and I was!”

Ghostbur settles down next to them, only sparing Techno a glance as he wraps cool arms around the two of them.

Tommy shudders in his arms, and Techno breathes out. He tucks his brother under his chin, resting a hand on the small of his back while the other comes up to gently card through his hair. 

The blond keens, hands desperately twisting in the fabric of Techno’s shirt like he’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“Hey, deep breaths for me, alright?” Techno mummers gently. Tommy makes a sad, choked noise, but he nods into his chest. At least it’s something.

Techno exaggerates his breathing, counting quietly while Tommy attempts to follow his lead. They sit there for who knows how long, his sobs dying into small sniffs and gasps.

He doesn’t pull away though, continuing to card hooved hands as gently as he could through greasy blond hair, Ghostbur resting his head against Techno’s shoulder with one arm resting on the small of his back and the other rubbing soothing circles into Tommy’s shoulder.

“He was lying,” Tommy says quietly, and Techno and Ghostbur share a look over his head. “He-- he’s scared of me, isn’t he?”

“Dream?” Techno asks. 

“I want to kill Dream,” Tommy suddenly says, voice still shaking a little.

_ “What?” _ Ghostbur breathes.

Techno blanches, pulling Tommy to arm distance and sharing a look with Ghostbur. This kid has been giving him emotional whiplash all day.

When he looks into Tommy’s eyes, they’re so  _ grey _ and devoid of life, but there’s the tiniest of sparks in his eyes and Techno knows damn well that he’d do anything to fan it back into a flame.

The piglin frowns slightly, but Tommy’s face remains hard as steel.

“I’m all for getting back on him, especially with all--” Techno glances behind, to the crater that once was Logstedshire “--that, but I think you missed a couple of steps there, kid.”

“What do you mean I ‘missed a couple steps’?” Tommy bites out. “I’m not missing anything, fuck you, that fucking--”

“Tommy,” Ghostbur says softly, in that tone that Techno recognizes that Wilbur used when consoling wild animals in the back of their childhood home, “there’s a couple things you need to do before that.”

The blond scowls, whipping away the remaining tears. “Like  _ what?” _

“Well, for one, you’re soaking wet, possibly injured and clearly upset--” The ghost started, quickly getting cut off.

“I am not!”

“And you’ve got--” Techno tried to finish for Ghostbur, looking over the blond’s shoulders and squinting at the mess of wet feathers drooping down “-- since when did you have wings? I thought you were human?”

“I thought I was too, ‘cause Phil said my mom was human but I just think both her human shit ‘n Phil’s stupid hybrid shit just decided to fuck me over--” 

“He’s growing antlers too,” Ghostbur cuts in from behind, “The wings grew under his skin and just-- it was a little gross! There was a lot of blood, and he was really tired afterwards. He slept for almost a whole day! I think that’s going to happen with the antlers too?”

Techno grimaced. “That… really doesn’t sound like a pleasant experience.”   
  
“It  _ wasn’t _ , I woke up feelin’ like shit and then W-- Ghostbur decided to make fun of me! Called me a baby bird--”   
  
“I called you little bird--”

“-- Same difference, dick head.”

And it suddenly clicks. The voices, who’ve been talking about some “little bird”, who wouldn’t stop talking about antlers and feathers and wings like Phil’s, the voices who cheer a mix of Technosmart and Technodumb.

_ “You’re _ the little bird?” He asks, a hint of mirth in his voice. He grins over Tommy's head, and in a hushed tone he says, “Oh, this is giving me so much teasing material.”

Tommy’s feathers raise and he tilts his head downward, glowering at his older brother. Techno, like he does, laughs.

“Stop talking about me like I'm not right here, I can hear you.” Tommy hissed, bumping his head against Techno’s chest. “Dickheads, the lot of you. Now, fuckin’-- hug me or something.”

“Clingy,” Ghostbur whispered behind Techno’s ear, the two of them turned to face him, leveling him with matching unimpressed looks. “What’s that look for?”

_ He almost broke his fucking neck, _ a voice hisses, louder than the others. 

Way to ruin the mood.

Before Techno can say anything, Tommy’s dragging the specter closer. “Shut the fuck up Ghostbur. You’re so mean to me, and awful. You’re an awful brother.”

Ghostbur blinks down at Tommy and raises an eyebrow at Techno. He shrugged at his twin. Frankly, the piglin had  _ no clue _ what was going on, but Tommy never seemed to say out right what he wanted. Especially comfort.

_ Don’t question it, _ he mouthed to the ghost,  _ he needs this. _

Ghostbur nodded.

And with that, Techno breathed out, tucking Tommy's head under his chin. He hears something, muffled and quiet against his chest. The only thing he can make out is “tired.”

"Tommy?"

“I’m alright. Just-- just a little tired.”

The piglin pulled away, just enough to be able to look down at the teen. “You sure? Just tired.”

“I’m  _ fine, _ ” Tommy insists, but he’s always worn his heart on his sleeves and now with wings it’s like he’s showing it off for the whole world to see his lies. Techno knows how to read Phil by his wings, and he can tell he’s upset about something, wings quivering and shaking all over. 

Techno pulls away to look at him and Tommy’s lips are pressed firmly together, like he’s steeling himself, but he won’t stop glancing around like he’s waiting for yet another shoe to drop.

Techno frowns at that, sharing a look with Ghostbur.

He wants to call him out on it, because the kid is very obviously  _ not _ fine. He can see it in his eyes, in the way he holds himself, in his bristled feathers that are still soaking wet.

They need to talk about that. They really, really do, but Techno, despite everything, doesn’t know how to handle something like that  _ without _ attacking it. But this is an emotional problem, something he can’t help with.

He loves Ghostbur, he really does, but he forgets the bad within moments. He wouldn’t help either.

Phil, days away in L'Manberg. He could only call in and hope he'd be able to come.

“We’re going to a tundra biome, and it looks like it’s going to start snowing again,” He says instead, and unclips his cape. He hands it to the ghost as he pushes himself up and over Carl, petting his mane. “Ghostbur doesn’t weigh anything. Both of you get on, hold the cape over you and Tommy, we don’t want him to die from the cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo hoo !
> 
> my apologies if it seems weird how fast tommy bounced back however i am a firm believer in "tommy tries to revert back onto his old personality instead of acknowledging that he is no longer the same person he was in the beginning of dsmp + refuses to confront his feelings"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy sleeps half the chapter, techno and ghostbur worry and they both dont know what to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres some mentions of abuse this chapter, but its not really in depth
> 
> shout out to techno for not having a clue on how to deal with anything thats not physical and ghostbur on filling in for him

They barely made it out of the treeline of the dark forest before Tommy conks out.

Techno’s surprised he even lasted this long, if he’s being honest. The blond had started leaning against him while they were still in the plains, passing by a lake. When they got near the forest he had started nodding off, jerking awake every few minutes.

Now Tommy’s face is pressed against Techno’s back, arms tucked in between his chest and the piglin’s spine. He’s thankful that Ghostbur’s here, Techno isn’t sure he’d be able to steer Carl back home  _ and _ hold up their younger brother.

He’s also semi thankful that Ghostbur is, well, a  _ ghost, _ and weighs literal air. Three weights on Carl’s back would have probably broken his poor horse, and that wasn’t even including the armor or the bag they brought. Little victories, he supposed.

The air is getting cooler, Techno could easily feel the temperature drop as they continued forward. The three of them hadn’t made it to the tundra biome yet, but a small drizzle had picked up.

Techno’s ear flicks, picking up a soft sigh from Tommy and rustling from his cape as Ghostbur tucks it more securely around the both of them.

Ghostbur had started up a couple conversations with him, but they ended just as quickly. It wasn’t bad per say, it was safe to say that Techno enjoyed the comfortable silence. The crunching of grass underfoot, the dizzle that gently hit leaves overhead, Tommy’s quiet snores.

It was nice, peaceful even. 

Chat, however, would not shut up about Tommy.

_ Soft, _ the voices cooed.  _ Technosoft, soft for little bird. _

The pigling huffed. He was  _ not _ soft, especially for this gremlin child. He doesn’t even know how or when Chat became so fond of him. 

The trees started to thin out, and Techno squinted to make sure nothing got into his eyes. He could see where the grass started to frost over, which meant they were almost to the right biome.

Ghostbur hummed, catching his attention.

“Something wrong?” Techno asked, turning a little to look over his shoulder. Ghostbur blinked back at him, lifting up the cloak a little higher.

“I’m going to have to fix his feathers again. Later. They’re--” Ghostbur gestured to them, and he peered under his cloak. 

“-- A bit messed up?” Techno finished. A few feathers were crooked, ash and soot and grit in between them. Phil wouldn’t want his own wings to get like this, and he’s heard enough from him to know that if he goes without preening, his feathers feel wrong. Uncomfortable. Distantly, he wonders how Tommy can sleep like this, or how tired he must be. “How long were you gone? What happened?”

“Not too long, just, maybe a day and a half? And you saw Logstedshire. It was-- it was…?” Ghostbur frowned, trailing off. 

“Already forgot about what it looked like?”

“I spent a lot of time making it. We did. I don’t think I want to remember all of it going to waste.” Ghostbur mumbled, turning his face away.

“Ah.” 

Silence settled over them yet again, but Techno could feel Ghostbur wanted to say more. He sent a glance at the specter, tilting his head to the side in a silent question.

“I’m worried. About him.” Ghostbur whispers, tugging the cape more securely around Tommy. The blond nuzzles his face into Techno’s shoulder, muttering something unintelligible. “He-- well, don’t quote me on this, me and my bad memory-- but he seemed to be getting better around and after his wings grew in.”

Techno spared them a glance, ignoring the mummering of voices in his head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just,” Ghostbur waves his hand around, looking for the words, “you know. He used a lot of blue in the beginning, he was so  _ sad, _ and then he got that rash and bounced back for a bit. Got a pep in his step, fire back, whatever you’d say.”

“... How has exile been treating him? Tommy’s never been one to do well by himself.” Techno muttered, stealing a glance behind him. Ghostbur was frowning. “And then he was stuck with Dream. You said he was upset?”

“Not well, not well at all. You saw-- we saw what he almost did.” Ghostbur said, hushed. “Tommy was angry in the beginning. At Tubbo, at me. And then he was lonely, and Dream visited him a lot, but I don’t think he likes me all too well.”

“Huh.” Techno frowned at that, looking down at Tommy’s sleeping form. “He’s… he hasn’t been doing too well, has he?”

Ghostbur shook his head. “He doesn’t want to admit it either. I wish Tommy could ask for help for once.”

Techno hums. “Like today? He said he’s fine, but we both know he’s a horrible liar. It’s painfully obvious.”

“Yeah. I don’t-- I don’t know why he does that. It’s like, I don’t know, he’s scared of being vulnerable? Scared of us? You?” The spectator sighs, carding a hand through Tommy’s hair. “I did mention getting you or Philza when his wings first came in, but he freaked out. I don’t know why.”

“It might be he doesn’t know how to ask, or it might be the withers,” Techno points out quietly. It’d make sense, and after everything he did tell Tommy to die all that time ago.

He can’t help but think back to earlier, and how Tommy stood on that tower. He should have never mentioned anything about Theseus.

“Withers?” Ghostbur echoes, and Techno blinks in surprise. He twists around, Tommy grumbling under his breath as he faced his twin.

“Do you not--?”

“Not much, just, you know,” Ghostbur makes a small scene of him getting stabbed. “And the smell of gunpowder. Some of the others filled me in, though. Some things don’t stick. I think Tommy might have mentioned it before, betrayal or whatever, but it’s not like I can control what I remember or not.”

“‘S... your noggin,” Tommy mumbled into Techno’s side. “‘S fucked.”

Both Techno and Ghostbur startled slightly, glancing down at the half-awake blond. They both looked at each other before Ghostbur burst out in laughter. Techno’s own lips quirked up.

“Stop,” Tommy whined, pressing himself further into Techno’s side like it could hide him away. “Too loud.”

Ghostbur covers his mouth almost instantly, but some giggles still escape.

Techno runs his fingers through Tommy’s hair, gently scratching his scalp. Chat ‘aww’s as his brother melts into the touch, and he can’t help but feel a little warm about it as well.

“Tommy?” He asks gently. “Are you awake enough for conscious thinking?” 

The blond doesn’t reply, instead quietly humming.  _ He didn’t hear a single thing you said, _ a voice whispers to him, and Techno’s sure they’re right.

Ghostbur shot a smile towards Techno, running a cool hand through Tommy’s feathers. “I think we can take that as a ‘no, not really.’”

Techno chuckled quietly. “Yeah.”

They lapse back into silence, trudging along the trail. It had been steadily getting colder, the temperature dropping around them as they headed towards the tundra. It quickly went from a dizzle, to cold rain, to snow.

They were almost home, and thank god for that.

“‘M cold,” Tommy mutters from behind, and Techno could feel him pressing his face further into his back.

The piglin sighed, lifting an arm up to reach behind him. He runs a hooved hand through his blond hair and doesn’t need to be looking at Tommy to know he leaned into it. “It’s just a little further. There’s a fireplace waiting for us.”

Tommy makes a rumbling noise and, honest to Prime, spooks him a little. Techno twists around so he can look at Ghostbur and Tommy (who continues that sound but stops in the middle of it to grumble and hide his face in the piglin’s side). Thankfully Ghostbur can pick up his confusion, and he grins at the piglin. 

“Why is he purring? Why is he doing that?” He asks.

The specter just laughs at his confusion. “He purrs! I was wondering about that, you’ve heard Phil purr.”

_ “What? _ Please don’t tell me you’ve been bothering him about the bird noises he makes.”

The ghost just smiles, too innocent looking to be reassuring.

“Ghostbur, you can’t do that,” Techno says, exasperated. “He thought he was human like-- uh--”

“A week or so,” Ghostbur supplies.

The piglin nodded. “--A week ago or so ago.”

Ghostbur grins, leaning forward to hit Techno’s shoulder. “But it’s  _ Tommy, _ he’s like Phil! Little bird! I mean, we’re not whatever Phil is, we’re the adopted ones, but look at Tommy! He’s just--” he looks down at the blond, eyes soft and setting a gentle hand on his left wing “--Tommy, yeah? There’s just something different about it being  _ him.” _

“You’re such a huge nerd.”

Ghostbur punches his shoulder lightly. “Hey! Am I wrong?”

“Absolutely. Can’t believe I lost you to soft feelings, I’m hurt.” Techno deadpans.

“Not my fault that you can’t emote properly,” he quips back, and Techno somehow manages to make the fakest gasp that has Ghostbur laughing.

They continue on, and Techno can see his chimney from a distance. Once and a while Ghostbur or him crack a small joke. It’s not long before they make it to his cabin.

“C’mon,” Techno says, sliding off Carl. “Help me get him off, and then I’ll take him inside if you take care of Carl.”

“Fine by me!”

Ghostbur helps out, gently manhandling him so Techno could pick him up comfortably. Tommy stirs slightly, but he doesn’t actually wake up. Instead, he curls up against Techno’s chest with a small frown.

“Aww, don’t worry little bird,” Ghostbur croons, reaching over to run a hand through Tommy’s hair. “Just a little more, we’re almost inside.”

Tommy buries his face into Techno’s shoulder, and the piglin takes that time to kick snow at his twin. “Go away, I’ll set him down. Carl better be nice and safe and out of all that armor when I come back out later.”

Ghostbur raises his hands in surrender. “He will, don’t worry!”

Techno didn’t grace his brother with a reply, trusting that the ghost would be fine on his own. Instead he opens the door as best as he can with his arms full. The pigman's grateful that he had left a fire going before he left, as he’s hit with warm air almost instantly.

He blinks into the house, walking in carefully as to not hit his younger brother against any door frames, walls or other objects in their way. And there, sitting in his living room and right next to his fireplace, is a couch that Phil had egged him to get.

Thank Prime for Phil.

Setting Tommy down, the piglin quickly looked him over. 

Even if he was tall and lanky like most of their family, he looked… small. Like all those years ago, when he first met his baby brother. It looked wrong, so unlike the Tommy he’s seen during Pogtopia, since the last battle the two of them were in. Since right after his exile.

But sleeping, he looked more peaceful than Techno had seen him last. Since he’d seen in months.

_ Tiredinnit, protect him, let him sleep, _ Chat all but whispered.  _ He’s exhausted. _

Techno couldn’t help but agree. Tommy didn’t deserve the dark eyebags, he deserved some rest.

The piglin reaches down, hesitating an inch from his face. Techno gingerly brushes hair from Tommy’s face, resting his hand on his brother’s cheek. The blond’s eyes screw up slightly, a small crease in his brow, but he leans into his hand.

A smile tugs at his lips.

“Welcome home, Theseus,” Techno says softly, words coming out a little more than a low rumble.

Tommy’s eyelids flutter, tilting his head into Techno’s hand. He was probably waking up soon enough. Actually waking up, hopefully, not just saying something and immediately passing out. While he does need some sleep, Techno does  _ not _ want a starving child in his home.

Instead, he backs up.

“Check him over for me?” Techno called over his shoulder, making his way out of the room. “I’m going to get something to warm him up and maybe something for him to eat when he’s not all bleary eyed, the kid’s all skin and bones.”

“Of course, of course! Good luck with that!” Came Ghostbur’s reply. If he listened closely, he could hear ruffling from the other room and Ghostbur’s soft voice drifting in, coaxing Tommy to move a little. He must be awake by now, then.

Techno shook his head, making his way up the ladder to the second floor. He’s got a bunch of spare blankets and furs, you can’t ever have too little out here in a tundra. The cold comes fast, and warming up takes longer.

He knows his own house, and so he's already back down within a few minutes. He does make a detour to the kitchen.

They have leftover stew. That's great, at least Tommy won't have spent all that time just to die from starvation.

Techno poked his head into the living room, not even a little surprised to see Tommy blinking slowly and rubbing his eyes. The piglin glanced to the side, taking in the frown from Ghostbur. “Well, is he injured?”

Ghostbur blinked, looking up to his twin. “A couple of scrapes and bruises--”

“They’re not bad,” Tommy muttered. “What do you expect, I was in the fuckin’ forest. Alone. How fucked up is that?”

“You’ve got burns as well, Tommy,” Ghostbur pointed out gently. “Old and new.”

“Burns?” Techno asked, striding into the room. He didn’t miss the way Tommy watched him warily, or the way he tensed as he got closer. “Did you step into your campfire or something?”

Tommy composed himself quickly, sneering at the piglin before him. “What about it, bitch? It happened, doesn’t matter.”

“I think it matters when the place you were staying at was blown to high hell. Are they from explosions or?” The last part was directed at Ghostbur. The spector nodded once, turning back to Tommy.

“Before I was cut off--”

“Fuck you.”   
  
_ “Tommy,” _ Techno chided, crossing the room to drop the armful of blankets on him. The blond stilled, feathers puffing up as he poked his head out of the pile. “Let Ghostbur finish.”

“-- I was going to say, the burns aren't actually  _ that _ bad, at worse they're small blisters. He’s got a bunch of bruises on his chest too. Plus, the others... I don’t think they’re just from ‘being in the forest,’” Ghostbur reached down, gently taking Tommy’s hands in his. “Has someone been hurting you?”

Techno pauses, glancing in between the ghost of his twin and his younger brother. That was-- was he? Was it  _ Dream? _

The voices start their chanting for blood, but he hushes them, pushing it back. He doesn’t need this, no one needs this, this is important. They need to hear his answer.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, but his wings are twitching and his eyes are slightly wider than they were a few moments before. The silence is all they need to know, and Techno is once again reminded that he’s incredibly out of his depth here.  _ I’m so emotionally exhausted at this point, _ he thinks to himself.

“Well, uh. Is there anything else--?” He starts, expecting to be cut off. And he is, the blond takes the bait easily.

“My head hurts,” Tommy blurts out, a little too quickly, too loudly. He can see him flinch at his own voice in the corner of his eye. Techno’s eyes flickered towards him and, yeah, he looked vaguely uncomfortable in this situation too. At least there’s something they both can agree on.

“What do you want us to do,” Techno grumbled, but he leaned over to brush his greasy hair out of the way. He attempts to check Tommy’s temperature, but the moment his hand pressed against a small bump on his head the teen jerked away with a hiss. Techno startled, dropping his hand down back to his side. “You-- do you mean hurts as in headache or--? How long have you had your wings again?”

“No, dickhead, not a headache,” Tommy hissed, curling up on himself. “It’s like-- fuck, I don’t know, it’s like I got shanked in the head. Or my head’s a knife and it’s stabbing me. My head? Inside my head. Holy shit, I’ve got knives in my head--”

Ghostbur floats closer, leaning forward. “Huh. You should’ve said something, it’s probably like Phil’s antlers!”

“Okay, okay, so  _ how _ long does it take for them to grow out?” Techno asked, tilting Tommy’s head to look at the bumps. “I don’t want you bleeding all over my couch tonight, you’ve given me enough heart attacks for one day.”

“It’s going to bleed?” Tommy asked quietly, paling slightly. Uh oh, maybe Techno shouldn’t have joked about it. “I don’t want antlers! What am I, some sort of animal? I thought the wings were enough!”

“Well,” Techno started, trying to resolve this before Tommy started panicking, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He huffed in amusement as Tommy scowled at him. “What’s that name everyone’s calling you? Little--”

“I’m not little! I’m a huge man, I’m big and poggers and you’re fucked up. Fucked up walking bacon, that’s what you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, little bird.” The piglin grumbles, rolling his eyes. He stands, stretching his arms out. “I think I have something to dull the pain, but you should eat first.” 

Tommy presses his lips into a tight line, feathers bristling, to which Techno levels him with a stare and raised eyebrow. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters.

Well  _ that’s  _ not concerning at all. Techno looks him up and down and yeah-- he’s in need of a little food. Scratch that, a lot of food. God, had he been eating correctly?

“Well, you’re not drinking a potion on an empty stomach. I don’t need you getting sick all over my good hardwood floors,” he replies, already getting up. Ghostbur smacks his arm. “What? You want him to get sicker or not drink a regen pot? You know what magic does to a person.”

Especially when they’re malnourished or already have an underlying problem.    
  


“Be nice,” Ghostbur scolds.

“I am completely nice. Especially to gremlin children who bother me all the time--”

_ “Techno.” _

“Okay, okay,” Techno muttered, looking off to the side sheepishly. “Seriously though, a potion on an empty stomach? You’ll feel a lot worse, Tommy. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Tommy blinked up at the pigling, wringing his hands together as he thought about it. After a few moments he hesitantly nodded, glancing away. That’s all Techno needs.

“Alright, I’ve got stew and-- well, it’s somewhat light, right?” Techno asled, glancing towards Ghostbur. He shrugged. “Well, it’s better than straight up meat. I’ll get you that and some bread, and then we can fix your wings a bit. Then you can sleep more, how’s that?”

Ghostbur nods in agreement. “Bread is-- it helps with upset stomachs right? Because they’re like crackers?”

(They have no idea what they’re doing, Techno realizes in less than a second of actually registering what they’re talking about. Phil is going to kill them. Phil is going to murder them so hard if they mess up Tommy even more.)

“What’s wrong with my wings?” The blond cuts in, twisting around to try and catch sight of them. They puff up a little, but Techno pushes him back into place. 

“Hey, don’t move too much,” He mutters. "Just relax a bit."

“I’m not going to kneel over and die suddenly, that’d be such a pussy move.” Tommy grumbles, but he leans back and crosses his arms. "I still don't get why we need to 'fix' my feathers."

Ghostbur reached over to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Birds preen almost daily, it’s been almost two days since I did it. Unless you did it yourself while I was gone…?”

“No, no, I don’t--” Tommy coughed, ducking his head down sheepishly. Then, under his breath, “I don’t know how to.”

“That’s fine, little bird,” the ghost cooes gently, carding his hands through blond hair. None of them missed how Tommy leaned into his hand, even if it was just slightly “Just sit back for a little bit, okay? You’re still a little tired, aren’t you? You slept for a while.”

Techno watched, arms crossed and leaning against the wall as Tommy blinked up at Ghostbur. It’s-- a little awkward, he’ll be honest. Ghostbur is better than this than Techno could ever be, comforting Tommy. His throat worked up and down for a moment before he finally asks, “You’ll-- You’ll be back, right?”

The piglin can hear the faint reply of “Of course,” but the rest is cut off as he slips into the next room and shuts the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey,,,,, pumped out some [art for this chapter,](https://www.instagram.com/p/CLmMKPhFWoj/?igshid=1fjl2osnb7c0m) check it out if you'd like!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> techno and ghostbur reheat stew, have a small agruement with tommy, and tommy gets his wings preened by someone whos not dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one thing i love to write is siblings bickering. fortunately for me i am the youngest of three siblings, which makes this incredibly funny to write.
> 
> also, were going to ignore what happened yesterday.

Techno’s face drops as soon as he walks into the kitchen, a hand slipping down his face. He leaned against the counter, head in his hands. “Holy shit, I am so incredibly under prepared for this.”

Ghostbur let out a stream of muffled laughter, floating in the room and beside his twin. The piglin shot him a glare.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered, pressing his face into the counter. “You’re so much better at comforting someone than me.”

Ghostbur didn’t say a thing for a minute or so. Instead the sound of something opening, closing, closing, a clanging pot. Techno’s brow furrowed, lifting his head up after a few more seconds. Ghostbur only waved at him, setting things down.

“It’s a matter of perspective, I’d say!” He grinned, gesturing to the pot he set out and the loaf in his other. “You’re doing great, but hey, let’s not starve the poor boy.”

Techno wrinkled his snout. He already looked like he was, of course he’s going to feed him.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“I’m playing with you.”   
  
“I know, I know,” Techno mutters, stretching his arms up and over his head. His spine cracks all the way up with a satisfying pop, and then he’s stepping towards the stove. He’s half grateful Ghostbur knows a little bit around his kitchen, because the specter had found the pot of stew he had set in the fridge earlier. But, as he twists the knob and the stove comes to life, he asks, “Did you forget the ladle?”

Ghostbur grumbles something along the lines of  _ “making me do all the work”, _ but he still hands over Techno’s ladle. The piglin nods as a thank you.

They fall into a comfortable silence, the only thing breaking it is the crackling of the stove and the stew that’s starting to bubble.

“I’m not sure how we’re supposed to fix this,” Techno confesses into the quiet atmosphere. He doesn’t hear Ghostbur move closer, but he feels the air shift and cool.

“There’s one person who’d know exactly what to do,” Ghostbur suggests gently, leaning forward and against his shoulder.

The piglin tilts his head to the side, just a little. It was… a little weird, how Ghostbur had put it, but it’s quickly drowned out by the chorus of  _ Phil, Dadza, Philza, _ that erupts in his skull. If he flinches, Ghostbur doesn’t mention it.   
  


“Phil.” Techno says, bringing up a hand to rub at his temple. A small part of chat has the decency to apologize, however most of them continue their endless chant.

The specter nods.“Yeah, Dadza. He’s the best person to go to. He’s got the bird instincts, and I mean-- the wing part is long over, but how long until his antlers grow out? What if there’s more we don’t know about?”

“Glad to know that nickname’s sticking, even in death.” Techno glanced at him, stirring the pot. “You’re right though. Phil’s even got chicken legs.”

Ghostbur let out a stream of giggles, glancing to the doorway to where Tommy was. “Mama bird for the little bird.”

“How many jokes are you going to make of that?” He asked, taking the pot off of the fire. Nudging his brother’s side and jerking his head to the cabinet, he added on, “Could you get two bowls for me?”

“Gotcha,” Ghostbur says, floating away and towards a cabinet Techno know’s doesn’t contain the bowls. He huffs in slight amusement as he ruffles through them. “And never going to. Come on Tech, it’s  _ Tommy! _ I think it’s nice, remember how he was younger and was upset he was the only human in the family.”

Techno let out a hum. “I do. He used to make paper tusks, didn’t he?”

Ghostbur giggles as he finally finds the right cabinet and picks up the bowls. He floats down, holding them out with a nod. “He wanted to look like us so badly, it’s endearing, really. Now our baby brother is all feathery and stuff!”

There  _ was _ a time, before this, before he and Wilbur had set off to this server, where Tommy had been even more of an annoyance and had bugged Phil when he’d look like any of them. Of course, Wilbur and Techno were adopted, but that never seemed to click in his toddler brain.

So instead, he had taken scissors to any paper and cardboard he could find and made his own tail, tusks, and a pair of wings.

Techno huffs, ignoring the warm feeling in his chest and the corners of his mouth tugging up, taking the bowls and scooping up stew into both. “I don’t think he’s going to appreciate being babied so much. Big man, or whatever that gremlin child calls himself.”

_ Big bird, _ a voice pipes up over the others, which then dissolve into chanting the nickname, and Techno suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Of course they would.

“Didn’t you say he didn’t want Phil to be here?” He asks, reaching over to grab a bread knife and the near forgotten loaf. The bowls are set to the side to cool off. “I thought he’d  _ love _ to see our old man.”

“I think-- well, it’s not really--” Ghostbur started, stumbling over his words. The piglin glanced up at him, not pausing as he cut into the loaf. “Uh, I told you I mentioned getting you, right?”

“Eh, probably.” Techno waved him off, taking a couple pieces of bread and setting it to the side. “What about it?”

“Tommy thinks he hates him, apparently.” Techno sputtered, almost dropping a spoon he had picked up from a drawer. “Look-- Phil didn’t visit him, and he killed Alivebur, so you could  _ probably _ see why--?”

“Okay, okay, yeah, that does make sense, but you gotta realize that I am emotionally stunted and you’re--” Techno gestures to the spector. “-- to put it lightly, you.”

Ghostbur sticks his tongue out at him. “Thanks a lot.”

“Your welcome, but I’m serious. I’m not cut out to-- you know, take care of a kid who’s like-- whatever the hell Tommy is.” Techno sighs, leaning against the counter. “And you-- well, can you really help too? If even you forget the bad stuff? C’mon, Ghostbur. What if he tells you something and then you forget right after?”

“But--”

“Ghostbur, listen to me,” the piglin cuts in, “the both of us can try to help him-- but we can only help with so much. Trust me, I wish we could, but Phil’s the only one who knows how to deal with growing out all these hybrid traits, help him with this and be a better emotional support for him. Be actually there and not some-- some person he used to know, thought he knew, but missing all the parts that remembers hurting him, and-- you know, told him to die?”

Techno’s hands dropped from where he was waving them around. He was right, he had told Tommy to die, even if it was because Techno was right and told them he was for anarchy, he still told his brother to die at the end of the day and set Withers on L’Manberg. On him. And Wilbur, even if Ghostbur didn’t remember,  _ blew it up. _

Sure, even if Wilbur was a traitor to his cause and to his mind, even if Techno was the one who was betrayed by watching a government be built in front of him, it  _ had to _ have affected Tommy.

“He’s not going to like it,” Ghostbur reminds after a minute of silence. Techno blinks, then bows his head towards the floor.

“I know.”

From the corners of Techno’s eyes, he can see Ghostbur reaching out towards him, his mouth opening to say something, but.

“You’re talking about me.” Someone cuts in. Caught off guard, Techno whips around towards the voice. Standing in the doorway was Tommy, arms curled around himself and wings drooping. The piglin frowned, raising his head a little more to look at them and stepping forward, but the blond’s lips pulled up into a sneer. “Stop talking about me. Stop looking at me, you fucking bitch, I don’t want your fucking help, dickhead--”

Despite himself, a flash of annoyance flashes through Techno. 

“You need someone’s help,” Ghostbur said gently, blinking back his shock and holding his hands up in a palcating manner. “Exile’s been harsh to you, hasn’t it? You don’t have to brave it out all every moment of your life.”

“Stop talking to me like that!” Tommy snapped. “I don’t need help, and especially not from  _ Phil!” _

“Stop with your temper tantrum,” Techno scolds, rolling his eyes. “You’re obviously upset by Prime knows what, and you’re probably in physical pain too, what’s so wrong with you that you don’t  _ accept it?” _

Tommy stills, teeth still grit and hands clenching and unclenching. Techno leveled him with a stare, to which he ducked his head down. He can’t tell if it’s anger or frustration or fear that’s making him lash out this time around, but it’s Tommy, and it’s not like he’d admit it. Especially to Techno.

_ Don’t be mean, Technoharsh, you’re upsetting him, Technomean, _ Chat says, but Techno doesn’t pay them any mind. Instead he pushes them down and out of the way.

“You need Phil. We need Phil.” He tries.

“No,” Tommy says, his voice shaking slightly. If Techno was any other person, he wouldn’t have picked it up. He couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or fear. “I’m fine. It’s fine, we don’t need him here.”

He hopes it’s just plain anger. Why would he need to be afraid of their father?

“Tommy, it’s Phil. He’s the one best suited for this, and you know,” Techno more gently this time around, albeit a bit strained. He barely spares Ghostbur a second glance as he slips out of the room, clearly the ghost of their brother doesn’t want to be here right now. Neither does he. “The only one you’re biologically related to in this family? We’re from the Nether, Tommy, we’re not able to help you with all these new traits. It’s different, and we were born like this.”

Tommy clearly doesn’t want to see his side, because he immediately opens his mouth with a retort right on his tongue.

“Well we don’t-- fuck, do we really have to have this conversation right now?” Tommy grounds out. “You just warmed that up, yeah? You live smack dab in the middle of a tundra and it’s cooling down real fast. You’re going to make your kid brother eat potato stew flavored ice cream or some shit?”

The piglin frowns down at him, but he only glares up. "You can't just dodge this."

"I don’t fucking-- I just-- I just want to eat. What’s the big deal, dickhead?" Tommy crosses his arms together. "You're fucked up. I hate you."

_ “Fine,  _ just calm down and eat your food then!” Techno snapped, shoving the bowl towards Tommy. The blond yelps, careful not to get anything sloshing over the rim and on him. “You’re so difficult.”

“I’m not, you’re just a massive prick,” he growls right back. 

Techno doesn’t give him a reply, gesturing him out of the kitchen and to get a move on. For a moment, he thinks he’s not going to follow him out, but he finally takes a step out of the room. 

The living room is just how they left it, there’s no sign of Ghostbur in it either. He must have left the house entirely. Instead, he makes a point to flop on a seat pulled up to the fireplace and pointedly jerk his head towards the couch Tommy was sleeping in earlier.

He doesn’t complain about that either. He does, as time stretches on, starts to slowly stop shoveling food in his mouth and glare at Techno.

“What?” The piglin snaps.

“Stop staring at me,” Tommy snaps right back. “Making me all self-conscious and shit.”

Techno rolls his eyes, leaning back against his seat. “Someone’s got to preen your wings once you’re done.”

Tommy’s wings start to bristle, feathers fluffing up, and he can already imagine his voice.  _ “Who said I’m letting you touch my wings” _ or something along those lines of that.  _ “Where’s Ghostbur?” _ goes unsaid, finally the blond notices that he’s not there. Techno resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

“He’s not here, Ghostbur’s off doing… Whatever he does.” Techno grumbles, throwing his arm over the back of his seat. “What would you rather do, eat, get a regen pot, let me fix up your feathers and then go back to sleep, or wait however long it takes him to get back?”

Tommy only grumbles, but he doesn’t object. He takes that as a win and kicks up a leg.

“Tell me when you’re done with that, then.” He says, quickly checking inside of his inventory. Thankfully he’s got a spare potion already there from earlier. “I’ve got regen on hand, I’ll give it to you after.”

“Fine, dickhead,” Tommy mutters half heartedly.

They slip back into silence.

It’s a little weird. He’s used to Tommy, he’s used to his ramblings and him filling up the quiet, filling up the room. He’s just so much… less, now. More muted. It’s unsettling.

When Techno glances back up again, Tommy looks right back.

“You done?” He asks, already standing up and heading towards where he’s sitting. Tommy nods, holding it out.

There’s still some stew left in the bowl. He doesn’t press on it.

Techno presses the bottle into his hand and pries the bowl out of the other. Tommy lets go without a complaint, leaning back against the sofa and glaring down at the offending potion. “Drink this, for all those little injuries of yours. I’ll be back.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, nor is he expecting one. He just takes the bowl into the kitchen and dumps it in the sink. When he comes back, Tommy has the bottle empty and is tossing it from hand to hand.

“You chug it or something?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at the younger. Tommy startles at his voice, almost dropping it against the floor. Thankfully he catches it, Techno didn’t want to spend even more time cleaning up for the blond.

“I don’t like the taste,” he mutters, slipping off of the sofa and onto the floor. It makes sense, Tommy never has, and probably never will, for all the potions he drinks. He cradles the bottle in his hands like he’s afraid to drop it for a second time. “The feeling’s nice, though.”

“Yeah?” Techno says, kneeling behind the blond. The piglin holds out a hand and Tommy drops the empty bottle into it. It’s quickly set into his inventory and he’s just as quick to settle down behind him. “I bet, you’ve got a lot of minor injuries. They must have been aching or something, and the blaze powder in the potion should be making you a little more warm. Good for this temperature.”

Tommy doesn’t grace him with a reply, instead he only nods. 

“I’m going to start now, okay?” Tommy nods again, and so he reaches out.

Tommy’s wings flinches from the contact, Tommy himself jolting from where he’s sitting. He lifts his hands up and away from them, giving the blond the space he needs. Techno can see the tremble in them, in his shoulders and in his hands. He’s shaking.

He’s scared.

“I’m going to touch you again, okay?” The piglin mutters. Tommy gives a non committal hum, but he doesn’t stop shaking. 

“You’re alright,” Techno says quietly, resting his hands on the wings but not moving to do anything. “It’s different from Ghostbur, I know. I’ll keep my hands here until you get used to them, alright?”

“Fine,” Tommy all but gasps out, curling a little more into himself, “That’s fine.”

He all but melts in Techno’s hands, leaning forward while the piglin straightens crooked feathers and gently pulls out broken ones. It’s not hard work, but with how they found Tommy, who knew what else he had done without Ghostbur being there. It certainly was going to take longer than usual, compared to when Phil asked him to preen his wings for him.

Tommy lets out a stream of soft chirps, which isn’t as shocking as the first time the piglin had heard him make a non-human noise. He knows it must be nice, he can recall Phil talking about how it felt like having your hair played with but more, warmer, safer, just more. 

They’re good wings, he’d admit. They matched Tommy, though he’s a little surprised himself of their color. Phil’s are shades of grey and off-white, they weren’t as bright or as colorful as Tommy’s. He runs hooved fingers along his coverts, admiring the color.

They’re not really as bright as he’d think they would be, but Tommy himself has been a little dimmer since he last saw his brother. Techno has no doubt in his mind that they’d be even brighter, even more brash and striking, just to match his personality.

Only a week, he’s reminded. They sprouted only a week or so ago. They’ve only been preened by cold hands, not like Techno’s.

He looks so much like Phil, way back then. He’s so young.

“I’m moving onto your secondaries,” Techno warns, giving him a moment to register what he had said. 

“D’you think I’m going to grow chicken legs?” Tommy mumbles suddenly, words running into each other.  _ Great, he’s half asleep and nonsensical, _ Techno thinks to himself. “I don’t want to be a chicken.”

The last sentence is hushed and half-horrified, Techno can’t help but snort at him. It’s funny, you’ve got to admit.

_ Chickeninnit, _ chat crows in agreement.

“I don’t think so, Tommy. You’re too much of a-- what’s it again? Big man?” He says, voice a low rumble. 

The blond only sighs quietly, Techno’s not sure if it’s a sigh of relief or confirmation, but then he’s suddenly slipping forward and sinking even more into the ground.

Techno didn’t even notice him leaning dangerously forward until he was quite literally falling out of his hands, and yeah,  _ that’s  _ what startled him. 

“Uh oh,” he mutters, pulling Tommy up gently and into his chest. This was not the most comfortable position, with his wings flaring out from under Techno’s arms and resting to the both of their sides. Techno grunted, looking down at the blond. “You’ve been sleeping a lot, haven’t you?”

Children who are dead to the world don’t speak, and neither does Tommy. The pigling huffs.

“Stop saying aw,” Techno mutters when the voices start to get too loud. He’s starting to gather Tommy’s arms and wings back into his arms so he can set the blond back onto the couch, but then he realizes their position. “Bad news chat, Chat, looks like I can’t get up.”

Chat, as they do, laugh at him.

“Come on now, I’ve got a lanky teen with wings crushing me and you all laugh?” He deadpans, nudging Tommy. He doesn’t budge. “Ghostbur?”

Nothing. 

“Ghost--?” He tries again, but he’s quickly cut off by the opening and slamming of the door.

“Techno!” He hears him call from below, and Techno quickly covers up Tommy’s ears. “I’m back and I’ve got more blue!”

“ _ Shh,”  _ he hushes, and Ghostbur pokes his head out from under the floor. Which is definitely not freak whatsoever, not at all.

The spector pulls himself out of the ground-- god, they had ladders for a reason-- and floated closer to the two of them. Techno cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Help me,” Techno hissed, holding Tommy upright by his shoulders. Ghostbur’s face splits into a grin, peering down at the two of them. “Ghostbur, I’m serious, help me or I’ll revive you and kill you again--”

“Not very nice of you,” Ghostbur sings at him.

“This is my life now,” the piglin groans. “Being ganged up by a ghost and an unconscious teenager. Just pick him up.”

Ghostbur’s hiding a smile behind his hand, Techno can see it. He can tell. The specter makes no suggestions of moving, none at all, and Techno swears to Prime he’s going to strange Ghostbur until he’s the crystals he apparently loves so much.

… Is he above whining?

Yes. The answer is yes.

“Ghostbur, I swear from wherever you popped out off, if you don’t get him off of me I--”

“You’ll what? I’m already dead!”

“I hate this family. I hate you. I wish we stayed in the Nether so I could have made you trip and fall into lava or something.” Techno sneers at him, but there’s no malice. 

“You don’t,” he grins.

Techno doesn’t. He’s right.

The piglin huffs, leaning back so Tommy’s more comfortable. He should have at least been moved to something that’s not going to fuck up Techno’s back, but Wilbur was an asshole in life and he’ll be an asshole in death.

“I don’t think he hates you, not really,” Ghostbur murmurs, settling down next to his shoulder. “It’s a lot, you know.”

“I don’t know,” Techno mutters, refusing to look up at Ghostbur. Absentmindedly, he runs hooved hands through blond hair, hearing a quiet sigh coming from his little brother. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do, I don’t know how to help.”

“You’re trying to help, Techno. You’re trying to understand, and that’s the best we can do at the moment.” Techno can’t help but sigh, leaning his head against Ghostbur.

He doesn’t want to be in this situation, but he’s not going to throw Tommy to the wolves. They’re a bit estranged, they’ve drifted apart for years now, but it’s still Tommy.

All he does is sigh.

“Yeah yeah, we’ve been sappy for way too long today. Come on,” Techno stretched, arms up in the air. “Kid sleeps like the dead, let’s get him on the couch.”

Ghostbur makes a half-hearted whine about just sitting down, but that doesn’t stop him from moving Tommy enough for his twin to stand. Together they move him to the couch, where he barely stirs.

Once he’s on the couch, Ghostbur’s bringing over the pile of blankets and tucking him in. Techno helps where he can, setting the blond up against a few pillows that had been left on the couch.

He looks as comfortable as he can get.

“I’m going to put the blue somewhere safe,” Ghostbur says, setting his chin on Techno’s shoulder as they look down at their little brother. The spector presses something into his hand, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. “You know what to do.”

The communicator blinks up at him, and Techno starts typing. It’s not a long message, all he needs is to get the point across.

He hits send as soon as he’s done, setting it to the side and going back to running his hands through Tommy’s hair.

_______

The communicator pings, and if he hadn't been already settling down for the night he wouldn't have caught it. But he was, and he already knows the sound of a direct message.

The communicator blinks up at him, and so does two messages.

_ [Technoblade whispers to you]: I need a little help out here, can you come to my house? _

_ [Technoblade whispers to you]: It’s Tommy _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to say thank you to all of you, ive been forgetting to mention this the past few chapters but the support you have for this fic is unreal. seriously, we've hit over 16k hits and 1.5k kudos. thank you so much <:]
> 
> some of you have found my other socials outside of instagram, kinda funny and also very scary. now i think its time for me to drop all of them
> 
> you can find me here on [twitter,](https://twitter.com/crunchy_rocc?s=09) [instagram,](https://instagram.com/crunchy_rocc?igshid=ixbdr33rxk95) and [tumblr](http://crunchy-rocc.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> darn.... something thats not just plotless self indulgence? unheard of actually, but im really happy w this so far :]


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